The Intuitive Warrior

The Awakening of a Warrior

The Awakening of a Warrior - Watch the Video

I’m posting lists of lives that I have researched and discovered throughout the last twenty-five years of serious research. I have used several different psychics highly trained and renowned in their field. Past life regressions of my own and others working in unison to discover our past lives as a group and the well research of authors (including my own past lives) throughout time and the psychic work that parallels my own.

This information is disclosed to impart a fuller understanding for others curious about past lives. It is also to help the research of others on their own past life discovery.

? marks indicate a past life that is undergoing research and has not yet been confirmed.

I look forward to a potential discussion (Blog) on this material. Enjoy and be informed.

Most of the following souls had multiple parallel lives. This is a sign of an advanced soul or a soul that has no fear of having multiple simultaneous incarnations. Every soul is capable of this but few choose (5-7% of souls incarnate in any given timeframe) to embark on this multitasking adventure.

Michael Jaco’s past lifetime adventures:

King Yudhisthira of India during the time when the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita was written C.3500 BCE

The gods and goddess’s of ancient religions were ofter incarnate men and women that showed a high degree of spiritual abilities and were later formed into deities.

Poseidon one of the twelve Olympian deities of the pantheon in Greek mythology. His main domain is the ocean, and he is called the “God of the Sea”. Additionally, he is referred to as “Earth-Shaker” due to his role in causing earthquakes, and has been called the “tamer of horses”. He is usually depicted as an older male with curly hair and beard. Greece 3000 BCE I have many of these abilities that are manifesting in this lifetime. I can manifest weather and instead of causing earthquakes I prevent them or lessen them in my current incarnation.

With Pharaoh Menes the Unifier of Upper and Lower Egypt as His Special Forces Nubian Head Charioteer C. 3100 BCE

Vishtaspa(Vištāspa) is the Avestan-language name of a figure of Zoroastrian scripture and tradition, portrayed as an early follower of Zoroaster, and his patron, and instrumental in the diffusion of the prophet’s message. Although Vishtaspa is not epigraphically attested, he is – like Zoroaster also – generally assumed to have been a historical figure (and would have lived in the 10th century BCE

Son of Biblical Uriah, Benaiah, during King David’s Reign and was raised as a brother of King Solomon 967 BCE

Lycurgus of Sparta 820 – 730 BCE, regent, lawgiver and creator of the commonwealth of Sparta

Numa Pompillius 2nd King of Rome 753-673 BCE

Thales of Miletus Pre-Socratic Greek Philosopher 624 – 546 BCE

A Jewish General in Captivity in Babylon 580 BCE

Cyrus the Great 570 – 529 BCE the Unifier of the Persian Empire and Responsible for the Spread of Zoroastorism

Maharbal (2nd century BC) was Hannibal‘s cavalry commander during the Second Punic War. He was often critical to the success of the side of Carthage over Rome. Throughout his Italian campaign Hannibal maintained an advantage in mounted soldiers and thus relied upon them and Maharbal to give himself a sizeable edge.

Publius Cornelius Scipio Africanus (236–183 BC), also known as Scipio the Great was a general in the Second Punic War and statesman of the Roman Republic. He was best known for defeating Hannibal at the final battle of the Second Punic War at Zama, a feat that earned him the agnomenAfricanus, the nickname “the Roman Hannibal”, as well as recognition as one of the finest commanders in military history. He had given a thorough display of his tactical ingenuity before this at the Battle of Ilipa.

Rufio was an officer of the Roman general and statesman Julius Caesar (Twin Soul Alexander the Great Incarnation). In 47 BC he was appointed by Caesar commander-in-chief of the three Roman legions that were stationed in Egypt.

Meeting Yeshua as the Roman Centurion Aristotle Onassis and later as a Roman Senator that Helps the Apostles 30 CE

Marcus Aurelius (26 April 121 – 17 March 180 CE) was Roman Emperor from 161 to 180. He ruled with Lucius Verus as co-emperor from 161 until Verus’ death in 169. He was the last of the Five Good Emperors, and is also considered one of the most important Stoic philosophers. During his reign, the Empire defeated a revitalized Parthian Empire in the East; Aurelius’ general Avidius Cassius sacked the capital Ctesiphon in 164. In central Europe, Aurelius fought the Marcomanni, Quadi, and Sarmatians with success during the Marcomannic Wars, with the threat of the Germanic tribes beginning to represent a troubling reality for the Empire. A revolt in the East led by Avidius Cassius failed to gain momentum and was suppressed immediately. Marcus Aurelius’ Stoic tome Meditations, written in Greek while on campaign between 170 and 180, is still revered as a literary monument to a philosophy of service and duty, describing how to find and preserve equanimity in the midst of conflict by following nature as a source of guidance and inspiration.

Constantine the Great (27 February c. 272 – 22 May 337), also known as Constantine I or Saint Constantine, was Roman Emperor from 306 to 337. Constantine was the son of Flavius Valerius Constantius, a Roman army officer, and his consort Helena. He was an Illyrian. His father became Caesar, the deputy emperor in the west in 293. Constantine was sent east, where he rose through the ranks to become a military tribune under the emperors Diocletian and Galerius. In 305, Constantius was raised to the rank of Augustus, senior western emperor, and Constantine was recalled west to campaign under his father in Britannia. Acclaimed as emperor by the army at Eburacum (York) after his father’s death in 306, Constantine emerged victorious in a series of civil wars against the emperors Maxentius and Licinius to become sole ruler of both west and east by 324. The age of Constantine marked a distinct epoch in the history of the Roman Empire. He built a new imperial residence at Byzantium and named it Constantinople after himself (the laudatory epithet of ‘New Rome’ came later, and was never an official title). It would later be the capital of what is now known as the Byzantine Empire for over one thousand years.

Niall is placed in the traditional list of High Kings of Ireland. His reign is dated to the late 4th and early 5th centuries. The Annals of the Four Masters dates his accession to 378 and death to 405

Theodosius the Great, Byzantine Roman Emperor 346 – 17 January 395

Theodosius II, Byzantine Roman Emperor (10 April 401 – 28 July 450)

? Pope Leo I (c. 400 – 10 November 461), also known as Saint Leo the Great, reigned from 29 September 440 to his death in 461. He was an Italianaristocrat, and was the first pope to have been called “the Great”. He is perhaps best known for having met Attila the Hun in 452 and persuading him to turn back from his invasion of Italy.

Clovis (466 – 511) was the first king of the Franks to unite all of the Frankish tribes under one ruler, changing the form of leadership from a group of royal chieftains to rule by a single king and ensuring that the kingship was passed down to his heirs. He is considered the founder of the Merovingian dynasty, which ruled the Franks for the next two centuries.

Justinian I (482 – 14 November 565), sometimes known as Justinian the Great, was a Byzantine (East Roman) emperor from 527 to 565. During his reign, Justinian sought to revive the empire’s greatness and reconquer the lost western half of the historical Roman Empire. One of the most important figures of late antiquity and possibly the last Roman emperor to speak Latin as a first language,Justinian’s rule constitutes a distinct epoch in the history of the Later Roman empire. The impact of his administration extended far beyond the boundaries of his time and domain. Justinian’s reign is marked by the ambitious but only partly realized renovatio imperii, or “restoration of the Empire”.

Sir Lionel Druid Military King Converts to Christianity at the Behest of Merlin and Joins King Arthurs Court 500 AD

Heraclius 575 – February 11, 641 Byzantine Emperor from 610 to 641

Emperor Taizong of Tang Dynasty (28 January 599 – 10 July 649), personal name Li Shimin, was the second emperor of the Tang Dynasty of China, ruling from 626 to 649. As he encouraged his father, Li Yuan (later Emperor Gaozu) to rise against Sui Dynasty rule at Taiyuan in 617 and subsequently defeated several of his most important rivals, he was ceremonially regarded as a co-founder of the dynasty along with Emperor Gaozu.

Kenneth MacAlpin and known in most modern regnal lists as Kenneth I (810 – 13 February 858) was king of the Picts and, according to national myth, first king of Scots, earning him the posthumous nickname of An Ferbasach, “The Conqueror”

Basil I, called the Macedonian 830/835 – August 29, 886) was a Byzantine Emperor who reigned from 867 to 886. Born a simple peasant in the Byzantine theme of Macedonia, he rose in the Imperial court, and usurped the Imperial throne from Emperor Michael III (r. 842–867). Despite his humble origins, he showed great ability in running the affairs of state, leading to a revival of Imperial power and a renaissance of Byzantine art. He was perceived by the Byzantines as one of their greatest emperors, and the dynasty he founded, the Macedonian ruled over what is regarded as the most glorious and prosperous era of the Byzantine Empire.

Otto the Great 23 November 912 – 7 May 973 King of Germany, King of Italy and Holy Roman Emperor

Eric the Red 950 – 1003 Norwegian Viking that settled Greenland.

Canute the Great 985 or 995 – 12 November 1035, was a king of Denmark, England, Norway, and parts of Sweden, together often referred to as the Anglo-Scandinavian or North Sea Empire. In a reference back to the abilities of Poseidon is the story of King Canute and the waves is a possibly apocryphal anecdote illustrating the piety or humility of king Canute the Great, recorded in the 12th century by Henry of Huntingdon. In the narrative, Canute demonstrates to his flattering courtiers that he has no control over the elements (the incoming tide), explaining that secular power is vain compared to the supreme power of God. The episode is frequently alluded to in contexts where the futility of “trying to stop the tide” of an inexorable event is pointed out. My thoughts are that King Canute had demonstrated an ability to control the tides but wisely refrained from making it public and humbled himself before his subjects.

Edward III (13 November 1312 – 21 June 1377) King of England Son was Edward IV the black prince who was the reincarnation of Alexander the Great.

Giovanni di Bicci de’ Medici (1360 – February 20/28 1429) was an Italian banker, a member of the Medici family of Florence, and the founder of the Medici Bank.

Richard II (6 January 1367 – ca. 14 February 1400) King of England

Henry V (16 September 1386 – 31 August 1422) King of England

Jean II, Duke of Alencon (2 March 1409 – 8 September 1476) Commander of French King Charles VII armies with Joan of Arc 1429

Lorenzo de’ Medici (1 January 1449 – 9 April 1492) was an Italian statesman and de facto ruler of the Florentine Republic during the Italian Renaissance. Known as Lorenzo the Magnificent (Lorenzo il Magnifico) by contemporary Florentines, he was a magnate, diplomat, politician and patron of scholars, artists, and poets. Best known for his contribution to the art world, sponsoring artists such as Botticelli and Michelangelo. His life coincided with the mature phase of Italian Renaissance and his death coincided with the end of the Golden Age of Florence.

King Richard III King of England (1452 – 1485)

Jean Parisot De Valette 4 February 1495 – 21 August 1568 Grand Master of the Knights Hospitaller during the Great Siege of Malta

Henry Howard, 1st Earl of Northampton 25 February 1540 – 15 June 1614 Part of a group of Nobles that helped write Shakespeare plays

Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy during the Imjin war in the Joseon Dynasty, and is well-respected for his exemplary conduct on and off the battlefield not only by Koreans, but by Japanese Admirals as well. Military historians have compared his naval genius to that of Admiral Horatio Nelson.

Mohammad Mosaddegh (16 June 1882 – 5 March 1967), was the democratically elected Prime Minister of Iran from 1951 until 1953, when his government was overthrown in a coup d’état orchestrated by the BritishMI6 and the AmericanCIA. An author, administrator, lawyer, prominent parliamentarian, his administration introduced a range of progressive social and political reforms such as social security, rent control, and land reforms. His government’s most notable policy, however, was the nationalization of the Iranian oil industry, which had been under British control since 1913 through the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC / AIOC) (later British Petroleum or BP).

My soul mate is Tracy Jo Jaco. The term soul mate and twin soul are often reversed but the concept is the same. Your soul mate is the other half of you. When we descended from the spirit realm into the lower dimension we know of as our current existence we split our selves. My understanding is this was necessary to handle the strain of this lower dimensional reality and still function in it. Jesus and Mary Magdalene are a famous soul mate couple that everyone can relate to. I will outline several of Jesus’s and a few of Mary’s incarnations in my soul group section below. Soul Mates often come together to help each other progress but don’t always in every incarnation. Tracy and I have had many incarnations together and have been a power couple in several of them. Justinian and Theodora, and Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine to name just a couple that resonate through time. If you were to print out all of the lives I list here and lay them side by side in chronological time you would see most of these lifetimes are intermingled and support each other.

Gorgo, Queen of Sparta 480 BC was the daughter and the only known child of Cleomenes I, King of Sparta (r. 520–490 BC) during the 6th and 5th centuries BC. She was the wife of King Leonidas I (Twin Soul B).

Aisha 613/614 CE – d. 678 CE was one of Muhammad‘s (Twin soul) wives. In Islamic writings, her name is thus often prefixed by the title “Mother of the Believers”, per the description of Muhammad’s wives in the Quran. The majority of traditional hadith sources state that Aisha was married to Muhammad at the age of six or seven, but she stayed in her parents’ home until the age of nine, or ten according to Ibn Hisham, when the marriage was consummated with Muhammad, then 53, in Medina; Aisha had an important role in early Islamic history, both during Muhammad’s life and after his death. In Sunni tradition, Aisha is thought to be scholarly and inquisitive. She contributed to the spread of Muhammad’s message and served the Muslim community for 44 years after his death. She is also known for narrating 2210 hadiths, not just on matters related to the Prophet’s private life, but also on topics such inheritance, pilgrimage, and eschatology.Her intellect and knowledge in various subjects, including poetry and medicine, were highly praised by early luminaries. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aisha

Mór, daughter of the king of Uí Fiachrach Aidne of Connacht (Ireland). Wife of Brian Boru 941 – 23 April 1014 (Twin Soul B), was an Irish king who ended the domination of the High Kingship of Ireland by the Uí Néill. Building on the achievements of his father, Cennétig mac Lorcain, and especially his elder brother, Mathgamain, Brian first made himself King of Munster, first wife was She is said to have been the mother of his sons Murchad, Conchobar and Flann. Later genealogies claimed that these sons left no descendants, although in fact Murchad’s son Tadc is recorded as being killed at Clontarf along with his father and grandfather. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Brian_Boru

The legend of Gyda describes the unification of Norway as somewhat of a love story. Gyda was the daughter of one of the petty kings of pre-united Norway, Eirik, king of Hordaland. Princess Gyda was proposed to by Harold Fairhair (Incarnation of Michael Jaco), king of the petty kingdom Vestfold.

She answered that she refused to marry Harald “before he was king over all of Norway”. Harald was therefore induced to take a vow not to cut nor comb his hair until he was sole king of Norway, and that ten years later, in 872, he was justified in trimming it; whereupon he exchanged the epithet “Shockhead” or “Tanglehair” for the one by which he is usually known. He was now king of united Norway: he sent for Gyda and reminded her of the promise she made, and they were married. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gyda_Eiriksdatter

This following parallel life is interesting in that both of these incarnations, Eleanor and Ida, were with Henry II (Soul Mate Michael Jaco). One as his wife and the other as his mistress. Ida would go on to marry a parallel incarnation of Henry II (Roger Bigod/Michael Jaco). Henry and Eleanor’s youngest child John I would eventually be an unscrupulous king of England that would be held accountable by Roger Bigod. Roger and other nobles drafted the Magna Carta legal document that limited the powers of the kings of England from that time forward and also influenced the constitution of the United States. Their son Hugh Bigod would also hold John I’s son King Henry III accountable when he got out of hand and tried to override the Magna Carta. King Henry III’s son would be an incarnation of Michael Jaco once again as King Edward I. Edward would bring the English kingdom back to greatness from it’s long decline and would marry Queen Eleanor of Castille (Tracy Jaco incarnation) once again.

Philippa of Hainault (24 June 1314 – 15 August 1369) was Queen of England as the wife of King Edward III (Incarnation of Michael Jaco). Philippa acted as regent on several occasions when her husband was away from his kingdom and she often accompanied him on his expeditions to Scotland, France, and Flanders. Philippa won much popularity with the English people for her kindness and compassion, which were demonstrated in 1347 when she successfully persuaded King Edward to spare the lives of the Burghers of Calais. It was this popularity that helped maintain peace in England throughout Edward’s long reign. The eldest of her fourteen children was Edward, the Black Prince (Incarnation of Alexander the Great), who became a renowned military leader. Philippa died at the age of fifty-five from an illness closely related to dropsy. The Queen’s College, Oxford was founded in her honour. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Philippa_of_Hainault

Yolande of Aragon (11 August 1384 – 14 November 1442) was a throne claimant and titular queen regnant of Aragon, titular queen consort of Naples, Duchess of Anjou, Countess of Provence, and regent of Provence during the minority of her son. Major supporter of France and Joan of Arc ; ca. 1412 – 30 May 1431) “The Maid of Orléans”

Grace O’Malley 1530 – c. 1603; was Queen of Umaill, chieftain of the Ó Máille clan following in the footsteps of her father Eoghan Dubhdara Ó Máille. Upon his death, she inherited his large shipping and trading business (sometimes accused of being a piracy trade). The income from this business, the land inherited from her mother, and the property and holdings from her first husband, Dónal an Chogaidh Ó Flaithbheartaigh, allowed her to become very wealthy (reportedly owning as much as 1000 head of cattle and horses). In 1593, when her sons, Tibbot Burke and Murrough O’Flaherty, and her half-brother, Donal-na-Piopa, were taken captive by the English governor of Connacht, Sir Richard Bingham, O’Malley sailed to England to petition Elizabeth I for their release. She formally presented her request to Elizabeth at her court in Greenwich Palace.

Mariam-uz-Zamani, October 1 1542 – May 19, 1623 was an Empress of the Mughal Empire. She was the first and chief Rajput wife of Emperor Akbar, and the mother of the next MughalEmperor, Jahangir. She was also the grandmother of the following Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan. Mariam-Uz-Zamani was referred to as the Queen Mother of Hindustan, during the reign of the Great Mughal, Emperor Akbar. She was the longest serving Hindu Mughal Empress. Her tenure, from 6 February 1562 to 27 October 1605, is that of over 43 years.

Her marriage to Akbar led to a gradual shift in his religious and social policy. Akbar’s marriage with Rajkumari Heer Kunwari was a very important event in Mughal history. She is widely regarded in modern Indian historiography as exemplifying Akbar’s and the Mughal’s tolerance of religious differences and their inclusive policies within an expanding multi-ethnic and multi-denominational empire.

Anna Girò (born circa 1710/1711), or Anna Giraud was the stage name of Anna Maddalena Teseire, an Italian contralto. She is best known for her collaborations with composer Antonio Vivaldi 4 March 1678 – 28 July 1741 (Michael Jaco incarnation), who wrote several operatic roles for her. Girò was born in Mantua. Girò’s father was a French barber and wig manufacturer. She began to study with Vivaldi around 1720. She made her debut at Treviso in the fall of 1723, and in 1724 debuted on stage in Venice, performing Laodice by Tomaso Albinoni. She sang for Vivaldi starting with her 1726 appearance in his opera Dorilla in Tempe.Vivaldi’s contemporaries and modern scholars have speculated on the nature of the relationship between Vivaldi and Girò, but Vivaldi insisted the relationship was purely artistic. Girò was prima donna on dozens of performances throughout her career. She continued her successful career until 1748, when, after singing during the carnival in Piacenza, she married a widower, Count Antonio Maria Zanardi Landi, and retired from performing.

Tetsuko Togo wife of Admiral Togo Heihachiro (27 Jan 1848 – May 30 1934) [Michael Jaco incarnation] retired from official duties and public life when Hirohito ascended to the Chrysanthemum Throne in 1926. He watched as Japanese society under the direction of his protege grew increasingly militaristic. On the 30th anniversary of the Battle of Tsushima in which he defeated the Russian fleet during the Russo-Japanesse war 1904-1905, May 28, 1934, the emperor conferred on Togo the honorific title of marquis. A day later, Togo fell into a coma. He died in Tokyo on May 30, 1934. His wife, Tetsuko, to whom he was married for 53 years, died seven months later. Tetsuko and Togo were survived by two sons, a daughter, and four grandchildren.

Marion Davies (January 3, 1897 – September 22, 1961) was an American film actress, producer, screenwriter, and philanthropist.

Davies was already building a solid reputation as a film comedienne when newspaper tycoon William Randolph Hearst (Michael Jaco), with whom she had begun a romantic relationship, took over management of her career. Hearst financed Davies’ pictures, promoted her heavily through his newspapers and Hearst Newsreels. Davies is better remembered today as Hearst’s mistress and the hostess of many lavish events for the Hollywood elite. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Marion_Davies

Next up are my twin soul group. The twin soul group is equivalent to siblings. My understanding is that as your soul is born you are routinely born with 8 to 12 other souls and this is a group you often work closely with throughout time. My twin soul group (TSG) has been identified and I will outline all eight of their incarnated lives we have discovered so far.

I have left the names of two of my TSG out at their request and will refer to them as B and K only.

Alexander III of Macedon (20/21 July 356 – 10/11 June 323 BCE), commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the Greek kingdom of Macedon. Born in Pella in 356 BC, Alexander succeeded his father, Philip II, to the throne at the age of twenty. He spent most of his ruling years on an unprecedented military campaign through Asia and northeast Africa, until by the age of thirty he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to Egypt and into present-day Pakistan. He was undefeated in battle and is considered one of history’s most successful commanders.

Edward of Woodstock, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Prince of Aquitaine, Nicknamed the Black Prince from his armor, 15 June 1330 – 8 June 1376 was the eldest son of King Edward III of England/MJ

? Erwin Johannes Eugen Rommel (15 November 1891 – 14 October 1944), popularly known as the Desert Fox was a German field marshal of World War II. He earned the respect of both his own troops and his enemies

Arjuna is the third of the Pandava brothers. He, with Krishna is considered the main hero of Mahabharata, and plays a key role in the Bhagavad Gita [Michael Jaco incarnation of eldest brother king Yudhisthra]

Achilles was a Greek hero of the Trojan War and the central character and greatest warrior of Homer‘s Iliad. Achilles was said to be a demigod; his mother was the nymph Thetis, and his father, Peleus, was the king of the Myrmidons. Michael Jaco incarnation as uncle King Idomenius of Crete]

Alexander III of Macedon (20/21 July 356 – 10/11 June 323 BCE), commonly known as Alexander the Great, was a king of the Greek kingdom of Macedon. Born in Pella in 356 BC, Alexander succeeded his father, Philip II, to the throne at the age of twenty. He spent most of his ruling years on an unprecedented military campaign through Asia and northeast Africa, until by the age of thirty he had created one of the largest empires of the ancient world, stretching from Greece to Egypt and into present-day Pakistan. He was undefeated in battle and is considered one of history’s most successful commanders.

Edward of Woodstock, Prince of Wales, Duke of Cornwall, Prince of Aquitaine, Nicknamed the Black Prince from his armor, 15 June 1330 – 8 June 1376 was the eldest son of King Edward III of England [Michael Jaco incarnation]

The following twin soul’s most current well known incarnation is as Patton. These names will also make sense in there thread throughout time.

Bhīma, In the Hindu epic Mahabharata, is the second of the Pandava brothers. The Mahabharata relates many events, which portray the immense might of Bhima. One of the central reasons behind the envy of Duryodhana towards the Pandavas was the inability of the Kauravas to match Bhima’s strength. Eventually Bhima is responsible for slaying all hundred Kaurava brothers in the Kurukshetra War.

Hercules is the Roman name for the Greek divineheroHeracles, who was the son of Zeus (Roman equivalent Jupiter) and the mortal Alcmene. In classical mythology, Hercules is famous for his strength and for his numerous far-ranging adventures. Another real life Greek hero turned into a mythological point in history.

Hannibal, son of Hamilcar Barca 247 – 183/182/181 BCE was a PunicCarthaginian military commander, generally considered one of the greatest military commanders in history. His father, Hamilcar Barca, was the leading Carthaginian commander during the First Punic War.

Trajan 18 September 53 – 9 August 117 AD was Roman emperor from 98 AD until his death. Officially declared by the Senate as optimus princeps (“the best ruler”), Trajan is remembered as a successful soldier-emperor who presided over the greatest military expansion in Roman history, leading the empire to attain its maximum territorial extent by the time of his death. He is also known for his philanthropic rule, overseeing extensive public building programs and implementing social welfare policies, which earned him his enduring reputation as the second of the Five Good Emperors who presided over an era of peace and prosperity in the Mediterranean world.

Thomas de Beauchamp, 11th Earl of Warwick, 14 February 1313 – 13 November 1369 was an Englishnobleman and military commander during the Hundred Years’ War. In 1348 he became one of the founders and the third Knight of the Order of the Garter.

Jean/J Paul Getty (December 15, 1892 – June 6, 1976) was an American industrialist. He founded the Getty Oil Company, and in 1957 Fortune magazine named him the richest living American, whilst the 1966 Guinness Book of Records named him as the world’s richest private citizen, worth an estimated $1.2 billion (approximately $8.7 billion in 2013). At his death, he was worth more than $2 billion (approximately $8.3 billion in 2013). When I saw one of the most amazing statues of Hercules in the Getty Roman Villa museum in Santa Monica, Ca I knew the connection. Getty was also good friends and was inspired by William Hearst one of my last incarnations before my current life.

My twin soul group has some high achievers in it. All of us support each other and I see most of the Twin Soul group helping Mohammed bring in a new religion.

Abu’l-Fath Jalal ud-din Muhammad Akbar, known popularly as Akbar, “the great”; 14 October 1542 – 27 October 1605), also known as Akbar the Great or Akbar I, was Mughal Emperor from 1556 until his death. He was the third and one of the greatest rulers of the Mughal Dynasty in India. Akbar succeeded his father, Humayun, under a regent, Bairam Khan, who helped the young emperor expand and consolidate Mughal domains in India. A strong personality and a successful general, Akbar gradually enlarged the Mughal Empire to include nearly all of the Indian Subcontinent north of the Godavari river. His power and influence, however, extended over the entire country because of Mughal military, political, cultural, and economic dominance. To unify the vast Mughal state, Akbar established a centralised system of administration throughout his empire and adopted a policy of conciliating conquered rulers through marriage and diplomacy. In order to preserve peace and order in a religiously and culturally diverse empire, he adopted policies that won him the support of his non-Muslim subjects. Eschewing tribal bonds and Islamic state identity, Akbar strived to unite far-flung lands of his realm through loyalty, expressed through a Persianised culture, to himself as an emperor who had near-divine status.

I have identified with all of my twin soul lives to the point where I thought they were my own. This is another great benefit of a twin soul group. We are so close, like siblings, that we virtually feel the others experiences.

Ahtun Re told me that Mohammed is currently incarnated in Egypt. Egypt from my own experiences is the epicenter of Islamic change. A virtual revolution or renaissance similar to the growing pains that other religions have undergone in their own maturation over time is unfolding in Egypt. What better place for the creator of that religion to be? He also was the sultanate of Egypt as Saladin. Saladin also saved Islam from disintegrating during the early crusades. Who did he eventually go up against? None other than Richard the Lion Heart his twin soul! Here is an interesting article on the two: http://www.shadowedrealm.com/medieval-articles/exclusive/richard_saladin_warriors_third_crusade

When I discovered my lifetime as King Yudhisthra of the Indian epic Mahbarata fame I looked for each of my five brother in time. Alexander the Great was the great warrior Arjuna and the mighty Bhima was Hercules. I then looked at who was influential in my life and were like twins and I came up with and had confirmed the lives of self help masters Deepak Chopra and Wayne Dyer. Both of whom are still like twin brothers in this life.

Brother Leo (died c. 1270) was the favorite disciple, secretary and confessor of St Francis of Assisi. The dates of his birth and of his becoming a Franciscan are not known; but he was one of the small group of most trusted companions of, the saint during his last years. He was a native of Assisi and was one of Francis’s first companions, and became his secretary and confessor. If you follow the work of Dr. Dyer you know this is an easy connection to see. I was Brother Angelo in this lifetime. It may interest you to know that St. Francis is the current Pope Francis. Ahtun Re told me he waited begrudging a long time to assume this role and did not look forward to it. He seems to be making a great impact at reform in my opinion.

Deepak Chopra (/ˈdiːpɑːkˈtʃoʊprə/; born October 22, 1947) is an Indian-American bestselling author and public speaker.He is a prominent alternative medicine advocate and is a “controversial New-Age guru”. Through his books and videos, he has become one of the best-known and wealthiest figures in the holistic-health movement.

Names of my soul group are coming together there are many but here I layout a few that I have discovered and confirmed.

Jesus’s Past Lives

I’ve identified Jesus as having been part of my larger soul group. His wife Mary Magdalene in his last incarnation on earth was his soul mate and shared many lifetimes with him.

Mary Magdalene continued to incarnate and one of her last lifetimes was as Florence Nightingale – 12 May 1820 – 13 August 1910) was a celebrated English social reformer and statistician, and the founder of modern nursing. She came to prominence while serving as a nurse during the Crimean War, where she tended to wounded soldiers. She was known as “The Lady with the Lamp” after her habit of making rounds at night. Below

Mary’s last incarnation before ascension was as Aimee Semple McPherson (October 9, 1890 – September 27, 1944), also known as Sister Aimee, was a Canadian-American Los Angeles–based evangelist and mediacelebrity in the 1920s and 1930s. She founded the Foursquare Church. McPherson has been noted as a pioneer in the use of modern media, especially radio, and was the second woman to be granted a broadcast license. She used radio to draw on the growing appeal of popular entertainment in North America and incorporated other forms into her weekly sermons at Angelus Temple

I will show Jesus’s pattern of incarnations and consistent life thread through time. As a part of my larger soul group I also include many of my parallel lifetimes with his. My own soul mate, twin soul group and larger soul group are all in these lifetimes as well. We all support each other throughout our many incarnations and share similar life threads throughout time.

The incarnations of Jesus according to my research from Ahtun Re and Edgar Cayce:

Amilius was the first expression of Divine Mind (the Logos); the Christ-soul before his incarnation into a physical body (corresponding to Genesis 1). He was the entity Cayce identified as living in the lost civilization of Atlantis who redirected the process of human evolution by creating a more appropriate physical form for the influx of souls to incarnate into rather than incarnating into the ape-like human form which souls had entangled themselves in. The first wave of souls (known as “the sons of men“) became entrapped in the physical plane accidentally through their misuse of free will. These events gave rise to the legend of the “fall of the angels.” The second wave (“the sons of God“) consisted of those souls led by Amilius (the Christ-soul) who voluntarily became entrapped in flesh as Adam in order to assist the first wave. I have been told by several different psychics that I was part of the initial Amilius soul group.

Adam was the first “son of man” and “son of God”; the Christ-soul after his incarnation into a physical body (corresponding to Genesis 2). Cayce sometimes used the word “Adam” to refer to the entire group of souls which had accompanied the Christ-soul’s incarnation into the Earth realm. These “Adams” incarnated as the five races on five separate continents. Eventually, the Christ-soul, as Adam, joined his twin soul (the Eve-Virgin Mary soul) by allowing himself to be seduced by materiality as symbolized by his acceptance of the forbidden fruit. The other “sons of God” followed suit and, as a result, interbred with the “daughters of men” (Genesis 6:2). In this light, humanity’s banishment from “the Garden of Eden” was actually a great blessing, because death, reincarnation, and karma are all designed to teach us to move away from materiality and toward our true nature.

Enoch is mentioned in several pseudepigraphal works (The Book of Enoch, 2 Enoch, and 3 Enoch) as well as some Kabbalistic writings, in addition to his brief mention in Genesis 5:18-24 which concludes, “And Enoch walked with God: and he was not, for God took him.” The Book of Enoch describes the fall of the “Watchers” into materiality and Enoch’s heavenly sojournes as wekll as his transfiguration into the angel Metatron. It is revealed to him the future up to the time of the messiah as well. Enoch also learns about the heirarchy of the angelic realm and the divine “throne-chariot” of Ezekiel. The Book of Enoch introduces a messianic figure referred to as “the Son of Man.” In the canonical New Testament, Enoch is mentioned in Hebrews 11:5 and Jude 14-15. The passage in Jude quotes directly from the pseudepigaphal Book of Enoch which shows the author of Jude, the brother of Jesus, considered the Book of Enoch to be sacred scripture. I was told by Ahtun Re that I had an incarnation with Enoch but I have not identified a particular historical incarnation for research.

Hermes of the Cayce readings is the one who designed and built the Great Pyramid under the direction of Ra Ta. There is another historical connection between a “Hermes” and Egypt, which is found in the Hellenistic writings attributed to Hermes Trismegistus – the sage who began the Hermetic tradition. Hermes is also referred to in the Poimandres, as the “shepherd of men” who teaches that, “The Word which came forth from the Light is the Son of God.” Accordingly, Hermes also taught that human nature consists of such divine elements as Nature, Light, Mind, and Life; and that by recognizing them we may return to the invisible, immaterial world of Truth. I was with Hermes, Edgar Cayce/Ra Ta and David Wilcock who was identified by Cayce as an early incarnation of the biographer of Edgar Cayce’s life Thomas Segrue “There is a River.” I once asked Ahtun Re if David Wilcock was the reincarnation of Cayce and he said no that he was Thomas Segrue. I asked about the similarities in facial features and dream cognition and Ahtun Re said they were because of David’s strong association and identification with Cayce in the previous lifetime. Ahtun Re said that the reincarnation of Cayce was in one of the grandchildren of Cayce. This makes sense to me because the Cayce family doesn’t recognize David Wilcock as an incarnation of Edgar Cayce.

Melchizedek was the “king of Salem” and “priest of the most high God” who shares bread and wine with Abraham in Genesis 14: 18-20.) He is also mentioned both in the Dead Sea Scrolls (11QMelch) and the Melchizedek Nag Hammadi codex where he appears as a cosmic angelic figure, the risen Christ. Hebrews 5:8-10 calls Jesus “a high priest after the order of Melchizedek,” which explains how Jesus was a priestly Messiah without being a Levite. According to Cayce, Melchizedek wrote the Book of Job, which contains many mysterious passages that Cayce liked. In the incarnation as king Abimelech of Gerar I built the city of Jerusalem for Melchizedek and supported Patriarch Abraham as I discuss in The Awakening of a Warrior.

Joseph was the son of Jacob who became the Prince of Egypt. The story of Joseph appealed to Cayce, not only for its Egyptian location, but its endorsement of dream guidance and also for Joseph’s escape from the pit (anticipating Jesus’ resurrection). In fact there are many parallels between the life of Joseph and Jesus. I speak of how history clearly shows that Thutmose IV was the pharaoh that Joseph interpreted the dream for and became the right hand man or vizier. Joseph would become Yuya and his Egyptian princess wife would have a son named Moses. The future Queen Tiya mother of the future Pharaoh Akhenaten was also their daughter. I had incarnations in this entire period of Egyptian history as the head general of the chariots.

Joshua was the warrior who led the Israelites into the Promised Land. However, this incarnation of the Christ-soul is more difficult to account for given his military campaigns described in the Bible. Jesus’ suffering on the cross would certainly have paid his karmic debt for this transgression as well. But Cayce also saw Joshua as a member of a family, which had produced many highly-skilled spiritual counselors. One of Joshua’s roles was as a scribe for Moses who psychically dictated much of the material from the books traditionally attributed to him. This explains how Joshua could have remembered to include such details as the creation of the universe and his own death. Hebrews 4:8-10 identifies Jesus as a better Joshua, as Joshua led Israel into the rest of Canaan, but Jesus leads the people of God into “God’s rest,” salvation. Among the early Church Fathers, Joshua is considered a type of Jesus Christ. I would leave Egypt as Egyptian Prince Nakhtmin with Moses and Joshua who I would teach sacred warfare.

Asaph – The Cayce readings give little information about Asaph except that he was the music director and seer who served under David and Solomon. I was the commander in chief of David’s and Solomon’s armies as Benaiah so I would have know Asaph in that lifetime.

Jesus was as a man who attained complete “at-one-ment” and human-divine unity and therefore became “the Christ.” Note that “Joshua”, “Jeshua”, and “Jesus” are really the same name. We often incarnate with the same name because of the vibrational pattern it brings into material form. The name “Jesus” is a Latinization of the Aramaic “Jeshua” or “Yeshua” which is in turn taken from the Hebrew “Yehoshua” or “Joshua.” So the name “Jesus” refers to many heroes in the Hebrew Bible. Cayce’s readings therefore discovered the soul-entity Jesus with the same name in three separate incarnations. Cayce also revealed that the Jesus of the New Testament was registered by his Essene school under the name of “Jeshua.” I had a lifetime as the Roman centurion mentioned in the bible that has Jesus heal his son. I spent significant time learning and traveling with Yeshua and the disciples. I would later help the disciples disperse as a Roman Senator after the crucifixion and transport Yeshua’s family to France and later to the British Isles.

Michael Tomlinson’s Past Lives

Part of soul group with Michael Jaco. Notice the interplay of lives together. Michael Tomlinson is just beginning his past life research and has made great strides of discovery in a short period of time. He has had deep insights into the spiritual aspects of past life research while in past life regressions. Michael’s PL research has greatly influenced my own inner research and discovery. Hence the soul group relationship of helping each other progress.

Charioteer in ancient Egypt with and his current wife Tracy. I was also a charioteer in several lifetimes and my wife in this life is also named Tracy! My wife Tracy was also with me in ancient Egypt. We very likely were charioteers together. Not confirmed yet.

Part of a group of Spartan law givers that potentially worked with Lycurgus (Michael Jaco incarnation) of Sparta 820 – 730 BCE, regent, lawgiver and creator of the commonwealth of Sparta

Mahākāśyapa is one of the most revered of the Buddha’s early disciples, foremost in ascetic practices. He is often depicted in statuary together with Ananda (Michael Jaco Incarnation), each standing to one side of the Buddha.

Bodhidharma was a Buddhistmonk who lived during the 5th or 6th century CE. He is traditionally credited as the transmitter of Ch’an to China, and regarded as its first Chinese patriarch. According to Chinese legend, he also began the physical training of the Shaolin monks that led to the creation of Shaolin Kung Fu. Taught Dazu Huike [Michael Jaco incarnation] (487-593) 2nd Patriarch of Chinese Buddhism after studying with Bodhi Dharma

Leonardo da Vinci 15 April 1452 – 2 May 1519) was an Italianpolymath, painter, sculptor, architect, musician, mathematician, engineer, inventor, anatomist, geologist, cartographer, botanist, and writer. He is widely considered to be one of the greatest painters of all time and perhaps the most diversely talented person ever to have lived.[1] His genius, perhaps more than that of any other figure, epitomized the Renaissance humanist ideal. Leonardo has often been described as the archetype of the Renaissance Man, a man of “unquenchable curiosity” and “feverishly inventive imagination” Supported by Lorenzo de’ Medici [Incarnation of Michael Jaco] (1 January 1449 – 9 April 1492) was an Italian statesman and de facto ruler of the Florentine Republic during the Italian Renaissance. Known as Lorenzo the Magnificent (Lorenzo il Magnifico) by contemporary Florentines, he was a magnate, diplomat, politician and patron of scholars, artists, and poets. Best known for his contribution to the art world, sponsoring many artists such as Botticelli [Incarnation of B] and Michelangelo. His life coincided with the mature phase of Italian Renaissance and his death coincided with the end of the Golden Age of Florence.

Tokugawa Ieyasu January 31, 1543 – June 1, 1616) was the founder and first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan, which ruled from the Battle of Sekigahara in 1600 until the Meiji Restoration in 1868. Ieyasu seized power in 1600, received appointment as shogun in 1603, abdicated from office in 1605, but remained in power until his death in 1616.

Miyamoto Musashi (1584 – June 13, 1645) [Advanced soul with Parallel life with Tokugawa] was an expert Japanese swordsman and rōnin. Musashi, as he was often simply known, became renowned through stories of his excellent swordsmanship in numerous duels, even from a very young age. He was the founder of the Hyōhō Niten Ichi-ryū or Niten-ryū style of swordsmanship and the author of The Book of Five Rings (Go Rin No Sho?), a book on strategy, tactics, and philosophy that is still studied today. Terao Magonojo [Incarnation of Michael Jaco] (1611 – 8 November 1672) Samurai Apprentice with Musashi Miyomoto. Here is a an interesting and informative link of Michael’s past life regression for this lifetime. http://dianeross.com/blog/?p=164

George Monck, 1st Duke of Albemarle, [Parallel life with Musashi} (6 December 1608 – 3 January 1670) was an English soldier, a politician and was the key figure in effecting the Restoration of the Monarchy to King Charles II [Incarnation of Michael Jaco] in 1660.

Michael Tomlinson has many uncanny facial and body type similarities with several of the incarnations mentioned above. You can see the similar life thread of these incarnations and the soul group work that is occurring between Michael Tomlinson and Michael Jaco.

I hope these life threads have been inspirational to you and will encourage your own past life discoveries and adventures.

This is the latest chapter in the new SEAL adventure I’m currently writing: Navy SEAL Spartan 16. I thought I’d add a little clarification on my choice of adding a women to compete for SEAL training in the book.

NAVY TIMES
Mabus: Review of women joining SEALs on track
Sep. 30, 2014 – 06:00AM
By Meghann Myers
Staff Writer
A U.S. Special Operations Command report on integrating women into the elite Navy SEAL community was due back in July, but officials aren’t able to confirm whether it’s been completed or when leadership will be briefed. Still, the service is on track to make a final decision about admitting women to the teams by 2016, said the service’s top civilian. And it’s an effort he supports.
“In my opinion, if people meet the qualifications, I don’t think gender should matter,” Navy Secretary Ray Mabus said in a meeting with reporters on Tuesday.
Mabus, who has made expanding womens’ opportunities across the force one of his hallmarks, said he hasn’t heard any updates on the study’s progress. A spokesman for Naval Special Warfare said he had no updates on the report, either, and representatives for SOCOM did not immediately return calls for comment.
When the Navy, in 2013, began opening up the last jobs closed to female sailors, women were on track to be able declare their intent to join NSW in boot camp or at officer selection by fall 2015. This would put them on track to join SEAL teams or Special Warfare Combatant Crewman units by January 2016.
The move toward fully integrating women into all communities across the armed services began to gather momentum in February 2012 when former Defense Secretary Leon Panetta announced the Defense Department would allow women to be assigned to select positions in ground combat units at the battalion level, opening more than 14,000 billets to women across the services. In January 2013, Panetta andChairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Gen. Martin Dempsey announced the recission of the direct ground combat exclusion rule, a move unanimously supported by the Joint Chiefs.
Then in June 2013, Dempsey submitted the Navy’s implementation plan to Congress, with provisions for a 2014 SOCOM study into special warfare integration.
“What Secretary Panetta said when he signed the thing was, the presumption is that everything will open unless there’s a specific reason for it to be closed,” Mabus said Tuesday.
Although Mabus said he didn’t know if the study had been completed by the July 1 deadline, he reiterated that NSW is now the last community closed to women; the Coastal Riverine Force and attack submarine community opened to women within the past year.
“The thing I keep saying about SEALs, about special warfare, is 80 percent of men don’t make it,” he said. “So we know what the standards are. If you can make it, I don’t see where gender has much of a place.”
The Navy opened up 267 riverine billets to women in March of this year, adding 21 more potential billets for the joint terminal attack controller enlisted classification in September.
Meanwhile, the Navy is working out the logistics for putting enlisted women on attack submarines. In January 2015, the first female attack sub officers will report to the Virginia and Minnesota.

I feel that women will add greatly to the SEAL community and my fiction book will show that. Things are rapidly changing in this world we live in. If you are open minded and progressive in your view about this reality you will agree that a balanced world will be a better world.

16

SEAL TEAM

SPARTAN 16

CHAPTER 5

Helen glanced up at the roof of Halsey Field House where they continued their PRT. The intensity of the rain had picked up and pounded on the domed roof like fists hammering at it. The coal black clouds blotted out all light in Halsey. Other than the overhead computerized lighting system that automatically adjusted to provide ample light, it was dark and threatening outside. Thunder hammered loudly, causing the building to reverberate from the noise. Several midshipmen reflexively ducked and shot worried looks up to see whether the roof was still intact or not.

The Halsey Field House was a multi-purpose arena with a seating capacity of 5,000 people. First opened in 1957 it was named after former alumni, lettering football fullback and Fleet Admiral William “Bull” Halsey, a WWII Navy commander and hero. Helen marveled at the newly reopened indoor multipurpose gym gleaming with new state of the art equipment. It had been part of a multiyear modernization program implemented for all the Naval academies sports facilities. The massive building was capable of multiple sporting events at one time. Right now, she was either going to make her PRT scores and get a shot at BUD/s or not.

”Form a line on the two hundred meter indoor field track after I call out your name!” Stapleton hollered. They all moved as a group over to the synthetic track with several running lanes for competition sporting events. It encircled the entire regulation sized basketball court. The basketball team was just finishing with their drills and was heading exhausted and sweat drenched, to the locker rooms. The SEAL PST midshipmen passed them and exchanged high fives with some of the players. The sound of hands exchanging slaps against each other was the only sound and reverberated upwards toward the mammoth ceiling until they were absorbed by its immensity.

“Go!” Monroe shouted to the first runner. Simultaneously, he thumbed the stopwatch button.

It was starting to rain so hard again on the roof seventy feet above them that Helen could barely hear Stapleton call out the order to start running. She glanced over at him and he had a smirk on his face.

Stapleton could barely hide his contempt. “And the last place runner will be Midshipman Kennedy.”

Helen knew to keep her face expressionless. She’d learned it the hard way in her plebe year when she allowed her anger to show. It had gotten her in a lot of trouble and she had vowed to not let her hair-trigger anger jeopardize her ambitions to become a SEAL. She ignored him and jogged in place to warm up her legs, focused on the mental preparation.

Helen was last in line as each runner was started at twenty-second intervals. “Go!” Monroe called to her.

She felt good and warmed up after all the physical activity. The muscles in her long, lean legs contracted as she landed on her heel and pushed off the toe in her black lightweight Bates boots. She matched the rhythm of her breathing to that of her stride.

I’m going to have to dig deep on this run and beat the competitive time of 9:30 to make a good impression.I was barely able to knockout fourteen pull-ups! Her muscles had shaken uncontrollably, as if she were trapped in a major earthquake. She’d collapsed off the bar just inches from her fifteenth pull-up. Helen knew it had been her passion to become a SEAL that was responsible for her pit bull tenacity to get those fourteen pull-ups. Her own family regarded her as a loose thread, or worse, little more than a nuisance. Her brothers had been doted upon and cherished by her parents so much that it made Helen nauseous just to think about it.

The anger that she wasn’t important to her family made her dig deeper and push harder. Her breath was coming in tearing gasps sweat running down her temples. Salt from her sweat burned her eyes and she squinted and swiped at the sweat with her hand, cursing the distraction. She commanded herself, Faster! She passed several of the midshipmen in front of her. One lap left, and she pushed harder than she ever had for any competitive run.

Competitive sports had been her outlet for years to focus and channel her rage. Sprint to the end!

“9:25,” Monroe called out.

Helen felt dejected. She had beat what was considered the competitive time of 9:30 by only five seconds.

She did a cool down lap while the other runners checked in their times before she stood broke down to a trot and then got in line with the rest of her friends.

Dirty met her as she moved into the line. “How did you do?” He had already given his time and stopped by to check on Helen.

“I got 9:25 how ‘bout you?” Helen asked between gasps of breath.

“That’s a great time! I got a time of 8:51,” Dirty said proudly.

“Not bad for a big guy she congratulated,” grinning up at him between breaths. She was starting to calm down from the exertion.

“Speed sprints during football practice makes a big difference,” he said as he wiped the sweat from his face with a white towel.

“I’ve only been running in boots a couple of weeks, so I should be able to get my times down more after I’ve had more practice,” Helen said, a little worry in her tone.

“Oh, I’ve been meaning to ask you to run with me after classes but you’re always on the run it seems,” and he smiled, giving her a questioning look to see if she was interested in taking him up on his invite.

“I’m okay with it, but you won’t beat me,” Dan said with a challenging glint in his eyes.

Helen’s smile faded. “I’m going to be the first, Mr. Dirty Dan,” she promised him lightly. She could feel her competitive nature rising in her. Dan was a good friend, but when she was in competition, she’d let her speed convince him.

Dan’s brown eye’s narrowed, picking up the spirit of the contest. “I like a good competition,” he said with smile.

“Good,” Helen said, enjoying the competitiveness in Dirty’s narrowing eyes. “Four o’clock at Rip Miller Field.” She absorbed his warrior-like stare with one of her own. He had no idea how deep she could reach within herself in order to succeed. A saucy smile tugged at her lips and Dirty suddenly cracked up, laughing. Helen laughed with him. Her stomach hurt and her smile faded and she got serious with him.

“I’ve heard that several of the midshipmen are wagering I’ll never make it to SEAL training,” Helen muttered under her breath. “Have you heard about it?”

Dirty’s brows drawing downward, anger glinting in his eyes, “Yeah.” And then he gave her an evil smile. “I’ve got five different bets of twenty dollars each riding on you to make it all the way to SEAL training, Helen. That’s what I think of those guys betting against you.”

Her heart warmed toward her friend who idolized her.

“What about making it through BUD/S training?” she asked, eyeing him closely for his reaction.

His mouth drew into a wry grin. “As a matter of fact, I’ll take my winnings after your selection to BUD/S training and double down. Does that answer your question? When you make it through BUD/S, I’ll be a rich man from all my winnings.”

“How can you be so sure?” Helen demanded, her brow crinkling. Her parents and brother did not believe in her at all. Why did he? She desperately needed someone in her corner to cheer her on and Dirty stepped willingly into that role with her. It was easy for Helen to look up to the midshipman because he did believe in her. She stared at his big shoulders and thought he could easily take the weight of all the snide remarks he must be carrying for backing her bid for BUD/S.

“I look at you and just know,” Dirty said, giving a shrug. “My parents taught me to listen to my heart, and it tells me you’ll succeed, Helen. I’ve learned to trust it and it never lets me down. Besides, look at you,” he said, pointing at her, his big light brown eyes dancing with laughter. “You look like a Valkyrie. Honest to God, you do.”

“A Valkyrie? I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.”

“Yes, Valkyries were Viking female figures that chose which warriors died and which would survive the battle. When I look at you, for some reason a scene from the movie. ‘Apocalypse Now,’ pops into my head,” he said, pointing to his brow.

“You’re thinking of the scene where American troops in the Viet Nam war ride into battle on helo’s while Wagner’s ‘Ride of the Valkyrie’s’ blares from loudspeakers right?” Helen asked.

“That’s it! And since you’re a Valkyrie, I would want you on my side so that I would have a better chance surviving that battle.” He waggled his brows, his mouth stretching into a huge smile. “You’d let me live to see another battle, Helen. I know you would.”

“All right,” she said, chuckling, “I see the logic. If I had the power of your fate, noble warrior, you’re right, I would grant you victory in battle. Always.” Helen lifted an invisible sword in her hands and Dirty knelt down on one knee, playing along with the charade. He bowed his head. With her sword in her right hand held high, she lowered it in a regal manner and knighted him on both shoulders.

Helen knew Dirty had always been in awe of her and maybe now, she was beginning to understand why. He saw her as a badass warrior. If only she could trade her two older brothers in for Dirty. At least he liked her, respected her and genuinely enjoyed being around her. Most of all Dirty supported and encouraged her, believing that she could do it all.

“Thank you my lady,” Dirty said, rising, his grin silly. “ By your leave, I must now go and wash my smelly self.”

Helen laughed. “I’ll see you later, Sir Dirty Dan,” she called out after him. “Congratulations!”

Dirty nodded grinning, lifted a hand good-bye in her direction and started for the locker room where most of the other midshipmen were heading.

Helen sighed and got with the program. She was the last to report to Stapleton and automatically tensed inwardly as she gave him her times for the run. Stapleton looked up after scribbling her time down in the logbook. Looking around to see that they were alone, he snarled, “What exactly do you think your doing, Third Class Kennedy?”

Helen saw the malevolence in his dark green eyes. It was like he was trying to suck the energy out of her, but she would have none of that and stared fearlessly back at him. “I’m positioning myself for a possible slot if they approve women for combat positions for SEAL’s, sir.”

Stapleton rear back and then he roared with laughter. “Fat chance they’ll ever do that Kennedy,” and he shook his head and snapped the book shut with finality. He turned his back on her and walked away.

Helen felt her rage skyrocket within her. She bit her lower lip. The arrogant bastard! Stapleton strutted around like the barnyard cock he was. Flushed, wanting to lash out, Helen muttered under her breath, instead. She swore she would prove to all the jerks like Stapleton that women could be SEAL’s. Damn right she was going to.

A tremendous crack of thunder sounded outside, reminding Helen it sounded like giants above her clashing cymbals together. The lightning flash from King Neptune’s bolt lit up the night. It was so intense that it momentarily brightened the cavernous field house. The sound echoed through the building, the vibration shaking her before it finally faded. The rain came down once more, a heavy pounding across the domed roof as if a resounding applause. At least, that’s how Helen took it and she smiled a little.

Helen picked up her gear bag. All of the practice and sporting events were now over and the maintenance man walked over to the main breaker box and switched off the large overhead lighting. A loud metallic clack reverberated off the seventy-foot high walls in the stillness. Darkness poured through the building behind the last of the light rays from the overhead lights. Only the exit lights were visible as they cast an ominous red light across the empty gymnasium. She hurried toward an exit, not excited about getting drenched by the downpour waiting for her outside.

Doug Stapleton sauntered over to LT James who was watching the performance with a grin on his face like a proud father. “Here are the PST results, sir.”

The steady background hum of the bagpipe sounded cheerfully off the high marble walls of Memorial Hall. Massive crystal chandeliers winked and glowed with warm light overhead as the steady beat of a drum kept time for the kilted dancers. Scottish basket hilted broad swords flashed in the flickering electric candlelight, adding to the ambience of the ancient ritual dance.

The glittering steel of the long broad swords were thrust and slashed up and down as the men and women midshipmen danced and spun for hundreds of cheering and clapping midshipmen. The dancers would not have looked out of place if they had been transported back in time to the seventeenth century and had performed in a Scottish castle.

“Thank you for being prompt, Stapleton,” James said as he took the green logbook and turned casually to the PST results.

Stapleton turned his head towards the dancers as the LT seemed intent and focused with analyzing the scores.

“How do you think they did overall Stapleton?” James demanded as he scanned the figures.

“Sorry, sir?” Stapleton dragged his interest in the dance back to the SEAL officer.

James gave him a hard look. “I shouldn’t have to repeat my question, Stapleton. How do you think the Youngster’s did in the PST?”

“I think they did well overall, sir,” Stapleton stumbled, his face flushing red.

“But, there’s something else?” James prodded, reading Stapleton’s hesitation as a sign of an issue he wasn’t talking about.

“Yes sir,” he said, wrestling to keep the anger out of his tone, “there’s something else. The female in the group.”

James held on to his deteriorating patience with the firstie who seemed far more interested in the Scottish dancing than discussing these numbers with him. He saw Stapleton’s anger in his eyes and heard it in his voice. “Midshipman Kennedy?” He hoped like hell Stapleton was not prejudice because if he was, it going to piss him off royally.

“Yes, sir, I don’t understand why she’s being allowed to participate.” Stapleton’s voice grew deprecating. “Obviously, women will never have what it takes to make it through BUD/S.”

Anger threaded through James, his jaw tightening as he stared at Stapleton’s arrogant face. “I see,” he growled. “Come to attention, Mr. Stapleton,” he snapped.

Stapleton’s eyes widened for a split second over the unexpected, snarling command and he suddenly braced, eyes straight ahead, sweat popping out on his brow.

James held on to his deteriorating anger as he leaned inches from the Midshipman’s terrified face. “Stapleton, throughout history some of the best warrior cultures also trained their women to fight in combat. The Spartan women were renowned for their athletic and martial skills and actually defended the capital at one time against invasion from a force that had defeated the men. Viking women fought alongside the men in the shield wall. Scottish women, as you see here were trained in the use of the sword through dance movements. They defended the home while their men went off to war. Behind every great warrior culture were women trained in combat arts and supportive of their men. History is replete with famous women warriors that were as fierce and often more feared than their male counterparts.” James stopped biting off every word, spatting at Stapleton who was wincing visibly. He eased away from the little shit, taking in several deep breaths to calm himself.

“Yes, sir,” was all Stapleton squeaked after almost a minute of tense silence. He stared up at LT James’s forehead in his best, detached military parade ground look.

The pipe melody wafted high into the domed rotunda with its chandeliered skylight that allowed starlight through as the clouds thinned from the passing storm.

James gripped the log book in his large hand until his knuckles whitened, his voice still a low snarl. “In BUD/S everyone is given an equal opportunity, Stapleton. How would you like it if I discussed your inability to acknowledge your peers with the respect they deserve with some of my friends at BUD/S?”

“I wouldn’t like that, sir. I see your point, and will adjust my attitude, sir.” Stapleton’s voice was without any emotion and his face absolutely expressionless. His beady green eyes stared straight ahead as if he were one of the undead.

James didn’t like the man’s small, beady looking eyes. They were close set together, giving him nearly a cross-eyed look. Those beads of sweat had grown in size across Stapleton’s narrow forehead. Clenching his teeth, he hissed, “Dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” Stapleton said, making a snappy about face, he marched out of the hall.

Trevor felt like he was going to explode, his anger white hot. This little turd, high on his own power as a firstie, wasn’t going to be the kind of Naval officer he’d ever want to work under. He took another deep breath and let it out slowly. He told himself nothing got his attention faster than a bigot. They were self-serving and rarely made good teammates. Stapleton’s type was always looking for how others could serve their own interests, rather than focusing their own talent into the greater good of the Teams effort. He clenched his fist and then forced himself to loosen it and relax.

He had a lot of time in grade with SEALs and Stapleton, if he ever made it out of BUD/S as an officer, would impact his team. He would taint the men and women beneath his command. Trevor could only imagine sending Stapleton into a country where his bigoted attitude might impact local teambuilding operations with foreign counterparts. He silently promised that when the opportune time came, he was going to have a conversation with the knucklehead about his attitude. Because there was no room in James’ world of SEALs that an officer like this would ever survive BUD/S, let alone, become an officer in a Team. Not on his watch.

Trevor pulled out a small black phone and hit a speed dial button and waited for the call to be answered.

“Hello” a voice answered

“This is LT James from the Naval Academy.” His kept his tone calm and professional. “The Admiral gave me specific orders to call him immediately after I received information regarding test results,” he told McCafferty’ personal aid.

“One moment, sir.”

Trevor waited patiently. After a moment, a Texas drawl said, “ LT James, what news do you have?”

“Admiral, Ms. Kennedy did well enough in the PST to move forward to the Mini Hell Week here at the academy next spring.” He tried to keep the excitement out of his voice, knowing the admiral would enjoy the news. Technically, he should have emotions about it one way or another, but dammit, he believed women could become good operators.

“Excellent. Keep me in the loop as she progresses, LT James.”

“Yes, sir, I will. Good-bye.”

Admiral Joseph McCafferty’ aid, Commander Kent, came over to his desk with another phone to his ear. He covered the mouthpiece and said in a hurried hushed tone, “Admiral, the plane with the battle wounded from Afghanistan has just touched down in Germany.”

“How are the men?” the admiral asked, concerned voice. Any time his men were wounded, he wanted to be kept on top of it.

“They’re all stable, sir,” the SEAL commander answered.

“Good,” he said, relief filtering through him “What did we find out about the explosion that took out Chief Wilkens?” No one knew but he had a special spot in his heart for this Navy SEAL chief. He’d lost his only son four years ago when Connor jumped on a grenade to save his fellow SEAL teammates during a firefight in Iraq. His son that had given up a spot at the Naval Academy and enlisted directly into the Navy, becoming a SEAL right after 9/11. Jake Wilkens reminded him of his own son and although this man didn’t know he held a special spot in his heart, Joe was going to shadow his career and help him where and when he could. He was Jake’s mentor although he didn’t know he had one and that’s how mentoring worked in the ranks.

“The explosion shattered the chief’s kneecap was from a five hundred pound JDAM dropped by an F-16, Admiral. The twelve rangers and two CAG operators that were also wounded had been under threat of being chewed up by enemy fire that had to be immediately suppressed. The SEAL Team Six operators didn’t receive the bombing run information as they ran into the firefight to help CAG and the Rangers.”

The Admiral digested the information. “Keep me informed of the operators progress after their surgeries, especially Chief Wilkens’ progress and prognosis, Commander Kent.

“Yes, sir.”

I’ve potentially got big plans for that young man, the Admiral thought. Joe left his office. He stood up, walking around his desk. Outside he knew there was a perfectly manicured lawn of green grass and tall palm trees surrounded the non-descript two-story concrete building with no windows. On top of the building was a large array of antennas and satellite dishes that could communicate with secure operations anywhere in the world. The Special Operations control center for the United States Special Operations Command sat on MacDill Air force Base in Tampa, Florida, was one of the most high tech buildings on the planet.

Moving his fingers through his silver and black short hair, Admiral McCafferty continued to slowly pace around his desk. For over twenty-four hours all their high tech equipment had been abuzz tracking and analyzing information from the battle for Zawahiri and his Taliban insurgents. Large flat screen TV’s on the walls mapped the path of the battle and the battle damage. The number of enemy forces that had been killed was in red and was continually being updated. The number currently stood at 178. Most of that number was located in the cave, but across the battlefield space were other dark red numbers. Fourteen green numbers and one blue were all located together close to the thick black line delineating the border of Pakistan and Afghanistan. And that was where Chief Wilkin’s had been wounded, along with many others. McCafferty softly cursed the damn lapse of communication, hating friendly fire wounded and casualties.

Helen raced through a shower in the women’s locker room and emerged from an entrance just as the storm was clearing the immediate area. The darkness was transformed by soft light as Helen looked up and saw a beautiful crescent moon revealed from behind quickly moving clouds. Powerful emotions swept through her as she absorbed the sight. She loved the shape of that moon.

She hurried through the darkness of the yard to Memorial Hall to thank LT James for the opportunity to participate in the SEAL PST. It was her way to be inclusive and build working relationships and bring groups of people together as a constructive team. Most women she had known were team builders in this regard because creating families was in their DNA.

A hoot of an owl sounded close to her in the darkness. She looked up when the moon light in front of the sidewalk was interrupted by its shadow it flew over her head. Helen was sure the owl lived in the rafters of one of the rarely used buildings on the yard.

The bell in the tower clock over the chapel began to chime the hour. The sound filled the damp air and Helen could feel the tension of its ring reverberate through her body. In a crypt beneath the chapel were the remains of the Scottish American Captain John Paul Jones of Revolutionary war fame. Every time Helen heard the chapel’s bells she thought of his famous words of reply to a British officer’s taunt to surrender, “I have not yet begun to fight!”

She noticed Stapleton was walking quickly towards her on the same path. His fists were clenched by his side and were not swinging with his natural gait, as was normal for an American man. He became aware of her and shot her a look of pure hatred. Helen held his gaze unperturbed as they past each other. If a look can kill then he is trying his best right now.

Neither of them broke stride while continuing to look over their shoulder at each other.

I’ve had practice at this with both my brothers and I don’t back down sleazeball!

Stapleton broke eye contact first and walked even more quickly away from her, as if wanting to rid himself of her presence faster.

That guy needs a serious attitude adjustment!

Helen rounded the corner and crossed over the parade court with the statue of the wise American Indian chief Tecumseh silently watching her. She hurriedly walked across the wet stone steps leading up to Memorial Hall.

I hope I’m not too late.

She looked right as she mounted the steps at her favorite ornate bronze cannon on the yard named “Mars” after the god of war. Her footfall reverberated and echoed off the dimly lit granite walls of the surrounding five story buildings.

Helen heard the last of the drumming and bagpipe martial music as it came to a halt. The upper hall erupted in thunderous cheers and applause. She entered seeing LT James’ group of Scottish Highland dancers smiling ear to ear as they sheathed their swords. Their chests heaved up and down from the exertion of the dance. Sweat glistened on faces. They all took off their wool caps that dated back to the seventeenth century and bowed to the adoring crowd.

Helen saw LT James as she broached the top of the stairs into Memorial Hall. She saw that he had a smile from ear to ear. Their eyes met and he gave her the thumbs up.

He knows I passed! she thought, ecstatic.. I’m going to show these men that a woman can be a SEAL!

In this chapter of the upcoming SEAL Team Spartan 16 fiction novel I introduce a second major character named Helen Kennedy. She will eventually make it through SEAL training as the first female SEAL and be drafted by the main character Jake into a new, high speed, high tech SEAL team.

16

Chapter 4

“Lieutenant, James, sir, I’d like to request a chance to try out for one of the slots for SEAL Training,” Helen said, trying to keep the excitement out of her voice. As a Naval Academy cadet, she stood at attention in front of him, keeping her expression serious. Never had Helen wanted anything more. LT James, as he was known around the Academy, was a vaunted SEAL. And she’d finally sought him out, hearing he was on campus. It had taken her some time and she was out of breath after jogging between buildings after shouted directions from another cadet who’d seen him earlier. God, please let him say yes! She moistened her lips, remaining at strict attention.

Lieutenant Trevor James stopped in mid-stride and turned back towards her, his dark brown brows raised with surprise.

“And why should I consider you for one of those highly coveted slots Miss… Kennedy?” he demanded, amusement in his voice as he angled a look over at her name tag. Lifting his gaze, he searched her large, intelligent blue eyes. He took in her pale blond hair in a French braid lying between her shoulder blades. Was she worthy of his respect or not?

“Sir, my father is a senator from Maryland and he recently told me that a military review board had recommended women be allowed in combat.” I’ve got one shot at this and I have his undivided attention. She carefully watched his eyes for a sign of dismissal and wondered if he took her request seriously.

“So you think that Congress is going to vote that into law?” James demanded as his smile faded.

Helen watched as small lines at the corners of his grey eyes crease as he gave her an intense, inquisitive look that felt like his gaze bored right through her like a laser. It was that famous SEAL focus she’d heard so much about.

Unflinching, Helen held his gaze, her stomach knotted, determination searing through her. “Yes, sir, my father said they would get the bill and vote on it. He was of the opinion that it would be passed.” Helen wanted LT James to believe her. She tried to will him to say he would at least give her request some consideration. A bead of sweat slowly rolled down the back of her spine. She swallowed her nervousness, stubbornly willing to persist until she got an answer out of him.

Helen had been told that LT James was on his way to lunch and she had raced ahead to this location seconds earlier and eagerly waited for him. They stood in the corridor just outside the huge King Hall dining facility. The hall was large enough to seat and serve the entire brigade of over four thousand midshipmen, plus the staff of over five hundred, all at once. She forced herself to remain at attention, keeping her face carefully arranged.

“How many years until graduation, Miss Kennedy?”

“I have two more years left before graduation, sir,” she blurted, feeling a thread of hope. “I thought I’d start the process now along with the other midshipmen competing for positions.” Helen studied him. James appeared to be mulling over the idea. His brown hair was cut close in a military style, but she knew that if he were in a SEAL Team deployed to a combat zone, it would have been longer and he would probably have had a beard instead of being clean-shaven. His skin was still slightly bronzed, even though it was well into winter. Helen presumed he had probably spent several years in sun drenched exotic but damned dangerous countries. She longed to experience those lands, those challenges.

Tension built in her as she waited for his reply. She felt the strain of anticipation churn in her chest. Feeling the tension building between them, she tried to mentally relax the tautness in her body by taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Midshipmen hurried by them, laughing and talking loudly in their black winter uniforms, white cover hats with black patent leather bills, white shirts and black ties.

“Let me check on that and get back to you,” LT James finally said in a dismissive manner. He looked away from her, said, “Excuse me,” and strode off towards the dining hall, deep in thought.

“Thank you sir,” she called out respectfully after him, all the enthusiasm gone from her husky voice. Brow wrinkling, she wavered. If only the SEALs would give her a chance! She would show them what a woman could do!

Helen’s eyes widened as she walked into the atrium of Luce Hall from her maritime law classroom. Was she seeing things? LT James zeroing in on her like a laser fired rocket? His stride confident, boneless and gaze only on her. He walked across the compass symbol recessed in the floor, outlined with blue and gold. The tiles were polished and shining. The large grey granite building they were in would have not been out of place on the grounds of the Sun King Louis XIV’s Palace of Versailles. She swallowed hard and slowed to a stop, standing on the compass, unsure of why LT James was headed her way.

For nearly one hundred years since the building was completed in 1919 many students had deliberated over similar life-altering ambitions in the very spot they now stood. Recessed lighting artistically lit the historic center of naval academia and cast it’s light down upon them.

Helen came to attention as he approached her, his eyes narrowed and dark. She didn’t know WHAT to say or WHY he was here. Had she done something wrong? Said something she shouldn’t have earlier? Was he coming back to chew her ass?

“At ease, Miss Kennedy. Vice Admiral McCafferty is personally interested in the possibility of a woman from the Naval academy being selected for BUD/S.”

Blinking, Helen’s mouth dropped open as she went from rigid attention to an at ease position. She quickly snapped it shut. “Sir? Did I hear you right?”

He grinned a little. “You heard me right, Miss Kennedy.”

“But, I just talked with you earlier this afternoon. How were you able to get an answer back to me so quickly?” she asked, seesawing between bewilderment, sharp-edged joy and wondering if he was playing games with her.

“I’m pretty amazed myself but I guess I shouldn’t be when it comes to our admiral,” James admitted, shaking his head. “The Admiral seems to have a sixth sense about these things. Over the years I’ve seen many SEAL’s develop this ability,” he said with a slight frown. His eyes had a momentary, far away stare.

Helen quietly observed it was the same look she saw in James earlier when he seemed to be blowing her off and walking away into the dining hall. He wasn’t blowing her off, after all.

“The admiral called me right after chow in regards to your question,” he said, his gaze on her. “He told me just what you said about the possibility of Congress signing a bill authorizing women in combat. He asked me if I knew of any females that might be interested in becoming a SEAL. Someone I thought might have the potential of making it through training. I immediately thought of you, of course, and said that I knew just such a person.”

Helen could feel the blood rushing to her cheeks as joy soared through her. “Thank you for passing that on to the Admiral, sir.”

“He was pleased with my recommendation.” James frowned. “He requested that I use my best judgment in assessing you as a possible candidate and to keep him informed of your progress.” Hesitating, his voice lowered. “Are you really motivated to do this, Miss Kennedy?”

Helen felt like he was looking through the windows of her eyes and trying to ferret out her reasons lodged in her soul. She didn’t fear what he might see in her. “I’m very interested in pursuing a career as a SEAL,” she told him in a fierce, passionate tone. Helen didn’t care if he knew she was emotional about this. It was a dream coming true for her.

Just outside the windows facing the Severn River the tall mast of a sailboat glided quickly by and almost close enough to touch. A blustery wind pushed it silently along the dark water as sunlight glimmered off small waves kicked up by the wind.

“Say more,” James urged, frowning.

Helen wrangled her escaping emotions and sat on them. She willed herself to be calm. A tingling electric sensation rushed through every cell in her body. Several of her classmates walked by, chattering to themselves, books loaded in their arms or resting on their hip. “I’ve wanted this for a very long time, sir. I believe women can be SEALs. I know not all women will qualify through BUD/s, but I’m more than willing to give it a try. I believe I bring a proud family military background to the SEALs. I’ve been working out for years, and I have good upper body strength. I’ve studied everything I can about BUD/s and what it means to become a SEAL. I can do this, Lieutenant James and I’m very grateful for the opportunity, sir.”

James rocked back on his heels for a moment, digesting the passion in her voice, the long, steady look in her eyes telling him she meant every word of what she said. He lost his serious demeanor and smiled faintly.

“That’s great,” he said, relaxing somewhat. “Miss Kennedy, are you by any chance related to the former President Kennedy? Did you know he created the SEAL teams back in 1962?”

“Yes, sir, I’m descended from him through my father,” she admitted hesitantly. Where was THIS going? Helen had zealously guarded this information about her background, keeping it a deep secret. She did not want to stand out in that way at the Academy. Wanting her grades and her natural abilities to show who she was is what counted in her book.

“That’s an important point you left out this afternoon when we spoke, don’t you think?” James growled, giving her a piercing stare.

Helen girded herself, flatly meeting his accusing stare, as if silently accusing her of holding out on him. Dragging in a breath, she said, “I know that most SEAL’s are humble about themselves from my own observations. I also don’t want any preferential treatment, Lieutenant James. I don’t tell anyone here at the Academy about my family tree, either. So why should I tell you? I’m good at what I set my mind to do. I have a grade point average of 4.0 and my athletic abilities as a swimmer are proven here. I also have no demerits on my record. I always give my best, and if that’s not good enough, then that’s too bad where I come from.”

James nodded, giving her an approving look. “Good answer, Helen, because you will never get privileged treatment during your prescreening process for a slot for BUD/s.” His voice became firm. “We don’t operate like that. All SEAL’s have to continually prove themselves and no one is seen as better than anyone else when it comes to training or combat operations.”

Helen heard the truth vibrating in his voice. “That’s all I ask is a fair and equal shot at becoming selected to go to BUD/s.” The Hall was growing quiet now. A seagull glided by on the wind and looked in through the windows at them. His head turned side to side so that each eye could observe them. As if satisfied everything was as it should be he gave a cry and floated away on a gust of wind.

“So, you’re a Youngster?” James asked shooting a quick glance at the right shoulder board mounted on her heavy black overcoat. The board contained a golden fouled anchor and one single diagonal stripe.

“Yes, sir,” she answered, knowing full well that she was a Youngster.

“That’s perfect. We’re having a group of Youngsters begin their pre-selection for BUD/S, Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL, physical testing, two weeks from now on a Friday. Do you know any of them by chance?”

“Oh, yes, sir,” she said, “I do.”

“Great, that’s what I figured. Get with them on what the requirements for the test will be so you can physically and mentally prepare. I’m sorry I’ve not had the opportunity to check out your academic file, yet.” He gave her a hopeful look. “Tell me you have a sports background?”

Helen low keyed her answer. “I’ve been on competitive swim teams most of my life, sir. Here at the academy, I’ve been on the swim team for two years running. I swam in the same club that Michael Phelps, the Olympic champion, did,” she added, trying to be helpful and hoping that James didn’t think she was bragging. That was not a SEAL trait.

“That’s great, Miss Kennedy. That should come in very handy. All right, I’ll look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks.” He held out his hand toward her.

She thrust her right hand out, gripped his calloused one and said, “thank you so much, sir.” Helen couldn’t help but smile. James returned the smile and she liked his low key personality and his humbleness. It became him because he was a SEAL.

Helen had to rein in her excitement. Finally, the Friday had arrived for the testing. She listened intently as LT James briefed the group of fifty midshipmen. She observed his gaze as it moved around the group holding each person’s eyes, assessing each person. She could almost hear his thoughts as he would stop and study each individual. Does this person have what it takes to be a SEAL? Or not?

James came to a halt in front of her. She was his height, six feet tall and she boldly held his stare. His mouth quirked in one corner, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes

He thinks I have what it takes! Helen swallowed in a gulp. As he moved to the next man in line, Helen felt giddy over that realization. James KNEW she could do it! But so did she. Still, it felt good to have someone on her side, for once. Her family was completely discouraging of her trying out to become the first woman SEAL.

Helen looked around at the rest of the all male group standing in their blue and gold swim trunks. She felt comfortable in her blue and gold one-piece bathing suit. Her many years of competitive sports and her burning desire to be a SEAL over rode any thoughts of not belonging in a male dominant environment. Her secret weapon was her extreme competitiveness. Helen had never let her gender stand in her way when it came to sports and trying her best.

Early spring rains had driven them inside, and at the end of Friday’s class session they would conduct their first Navy SEAL PST, Physical Screening Test inside Lejeune Hall.

Lejeune Hall was located in the South West corner of the “Yard” as the campus grounds were known. The water sports complex where the PST swim portion would be conducted was named after a former Marine Corps commandant and class of 1888 graduate. The Lejeune sports complex was not designed after the French Renaissance period like many of the buildings on the three hundred thirty eight acre campus. Instead, the large, modern looking two story white concrete building built in 1982 had a large beige metal roof.

Helen felt a shiver of excitement run up her spine and chill bumps rose on her skin as she listened to what the requirements for passing the PST were. She’d arrived at Lejeune Hall soaked from the cold, nasty rain outside. Being able to do the tests indoors was going to be helpful, although she knew from reading every book she could get her hands on about BUD/s training, the Pacific Ocean at Coronado Island was damned cold. She’d better get used to cold rain and cold water because if she was chosen for BUD/s, the candidates were always getting soaked and sitting in that hypothermic water.

Dark grey storm clouds moved in so that the only lighting came from the powerful lights above in the domed building, illuminated the group. Rain was drumming the metal roof above them and Helen thought it would have made a heavy metal rock group proud. Old man winter was fighting back as a warm front was moving in from the Southwest, a harbinger that Spring was coming. A sky-ripping crack sounded and thunder shook the entire building. The lights flickered, but remained on.

Everyone was looking upwards as LT James laughed and said humorously to the group, “Sounds like you guys drew the attention of King Neptune. His brother Zeus decided to come along with his lightning bolts and thunder. You must be a special group for them to show up to clap for your performance.”

Helen shot an inquisitive look upward and then maneuvered a little closer towards the big SEAL so she could hear over the pounding rain and thunder.

Hope the SEAL teams are in good with the gods. Helen smiled to herself

LT James wore his Brooks Brothers winter service dress double-breasted jacket with gold buttons and two gold bars on the cuffs. The black wool material located over his heart contained one row of his top earned ribbons. Above the ribbons was a gleaming gold SEAL Trident insignia, which everyone, Helen observed, seemed mesmerized by. Beneath the ribbons were gold parachute jump wings. White dress shirt and black silk tie, black wool trousers and black lace shoes with a mirror like gloss, completed his ensemble. In Helen’s eyes, he presented a proud picture of a SEAL, something to aspire to become. James was a damn good role model.

Turning his voice a couple notches to be heard, James said, “Points of Performance are as follows: For the swim you must perform the test using either an Underwater Recovery Side Stroke or a Breast Stroke.”

Helen could feel his voice resonate inside her. She was intent, hungrily absorbing every word he spoke.

“Midshipman 1st class Monroe will demonstrate the side stroke.” James told them and gestured toward the pool.

Helen knew a 1st class midshipmen was at the top of the class and considered a senior by civilian standards. A 2nd class would be the equivalent of a junior. Her 3rd class midshipmen were called “Youngsters” and would be sophomores at a civilian school. At least she wasn’t a 4th class midshipman “Plebe” at the Academy. They were considered the bottom of the barrel.

Helen followed LT James’s gesture and noticed Monroe was already in the pool and wearing his swim goggles. He wore his Navy blue swimsuit and was holding onto the side, looking up in anticipation of the go signal from James to demonstrate the proper swim technique. Helen could barely make out the silhouette of his legs and noticed they were coiled like a spring, both feet pressing on the rough texture of the concrete just below the clear blue water’s surface.

“Go!” LT James shouted.

Monroe shot away from the side, throwing a spray of water across the calm surface.

Helen calmly watched Monroe emerge from underwater as he came up on his side, rotating his head and taking a breath and then stroked his arms sideways underwater and scissor kicked his legs in perfect form. He was an excellent swimmer! She was an accomplished swimmer and knew how to instantly evaluate a person’s abilities after many years of competing. James pointed at Firstie Stapleton and shouted, “Go!”

Stapleton fired off the wall like spring pistons powered him. He demonstrated the correct form for the butterfly stroke in between the blue and gold floating lane lines stretching out to the other end of the Olympic sized pool.

LT James said loudly, “Push-ups must be performed with a straight back, with feet and?hands in contact with the deck at all times. No slouching?allowed; proper form must be strictly maintained. Monroe and Stapleton will demonstrate the correct form and procedure for counting.”

Helen watched them leap out of the pool, dripping water as they came right over onto the pool deck where the group was located without even taking off their goggles.

“Stapleton, who will keep count, will lay down flat on the floor in front and slightly off to the side with his arm extended and fist up.”

Helen’s eyes narrowed on the two positions, memorizing them.

“Monroe will assume the pushup position over the top of Stapleton’s fist and lower his chest, touching the fist, then raise back up for a count of one. Every time he goes down and back up, it will count as one complete push-up.”

Helen watched Stapleton’s large hairy chest move down until it brushed the top of Monroe’s clenched fist, then his powerful arms flexed as if they were coils. His chest pumped back up as his arms locked into the full upright position.

“Any questions?” James demanded, glancing around as he flipped to the next sheet on his brown clipboard.

Helen stood, hearing no questions come from the candidates. LT James continued describing all the exercises as the two midshipmen demonstrated. His voice was methodical with a military professional tone as he read verbatim the PST guidelines outlined on the sheet.

“Sit-ups are performed by sitting on the floor with your knees bent approximately 90 degrees, cross your arms in front of you, with fingertips touching your?shoulders. Exercise through the full range of motion. Again, proper form must be strictly maintained.”

Monroe looked like a robot as he demonstrated the proper form. Stapleton sat on his feet with both arms wrapped around his legs holding him still as he performed the exercise and counted the repetitions out loud.

“Pull-ups start by gripping the pull-up bar with PALMS FACING AWAY FROM YOU.”

Stapleton sauntered his six-foot frame to beneath the bar to demonstrate.

“Hands?should be shoulder width apart. Do not swing, kick, or bicycle to?assist. Make sure you go all the way up with your chin rising above bar then ALL THE?WAY DOWN.”

Helen watched as Stapleton leaped up perfectly onto the bar positioning his hands as instructed, and then effortlessly hauled his long body up until his chin was over the bar as he demonstrated a perfect pull-up. His back muscles flared out like a peacock showing off his feathers. Stapleton then lowered himself and after reaching full arm extension dropped from the bar and turned around with a cocky, self-assured look on his face.

Helen felt his shot of disgust in her direction. She knew that look all too well from men who felt women were intruding into their sacred domain. Whether she wanted to or not, she thought of her two older brothers who were as arrogant as Stapleton.

A mischievous grin lit LT James face and he cocked one at the group as he turned to the next sheet. “Now, I’m going to brief the SEAL competitive Physical?Screening Test scores. This is what we will look at and not the MINIMUM standards, if any of you are so fortunate to make it to the Naval Officer screening for BUD/S selection board.” LT James shot a sliver of a glance in Helen’s direction, a bare hint of a grin pulling at one corner of his mouth.

“The scores we will be looking at today will be as follows: Swim five hundred yards using the side or breaststroke in ten minutes and thirty seconds.”

Helen knew she could crush that time, feeling a swell of confidence in her core.

“Rest ten minutes. Push-ups within two minutes: seventy-nine. Rest two minutes. Sit-ups within two minutes: seventy-nine.”

Helen could smell chlorine from the pool and fidgeted. Let’s get this show on the road. Arms crossed in front of her, she shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to another, feeling antsy and ready to rock. She had this. She knew she did.

“Pull-ups, no time limit: 12.”

James shifted a glance toward her without moving his head and looked for Helen’s reaction. He saw nothing but eagerness and confidence in her expression.

“Rest ten minutes. The last requirement will be to run one and a half miles in ten minutes and twenty seconds with light weight boots on.”

Helen watched James lower the clipboard and gaze around at the fidgeting, tense, ready midshipmen. He was a big man, probably over two hundred pounds. As he took in a deep breath, the black material of his uniform stretched tightly against his massive chest. The officer might be big, but he carried himself well, reminding Helen of a deadly stalking black jaguar that James was in disguise. She had one helluva imagination and often compared people to animals or birds. And it wasn’t lightly that she assigned a jaguar to James. She instinctively felt his lethal qualities that he kept well hidden by his seeming casual demeanor in front of them. But she sensed it as she sensed so many other invisible things that most men never picked up on. Maybe it was because she was female? Perhaps she had an extra psychic antenna in place genetically speaking? Her two brothers hated her ability to ferret them out when she was younger.

“Are their any questions?” James inquired, watching the eager, nervous midshipmen.

“I want you all to be aware that for some of you this is the beginning of a long process and how you begin it will set the foundation for your future or no future as a Navy SEAL. When I look back on my career and come to this single point in my history, I realize on hindsight that my determination and fortitude in the beginning during the PRT was crucial to my success.”

Helen stopped fidgeting moving and hung on his every word. Her lips pursed and she felt that driving competitiveness rock through her, knowing she was going to succeed at these tests today. No way was that bastard, Stapleton or Monroe, going to be able to say she was weak and couldn’t handle a man’s competition.

“All right, if there are no questions, I’m going to turn the timekeeping and record keeping over to 1st class Midshipmen Stapleton and Monroe. I wish I could watch your PST, but I have other commitments. I’m head of the Academy Scottish Highland Sword Dance group and we have a performance tonight in Alumni Hall. Midshipmen Stapleton will bring me your scores after your done.” His voice dropped lower and with sincerity. “I wish you all the best of luck.”

Helen saw James give her a barely perceptible nod, turned and walked briskly away toward the main exit. Her heart pounded with a competitive drumbeat in her chest.

“All right you Youngsters get in the pool for your timed laps,” bellowed Stapleton in a sarcastic, commanding voice.

Helen’s muscles screamed to stop as she pressed her chest to the top of the outstretched fist of Dirty Dan Butler, lying on the floor beneath her.

As she thrust away in the counter motion of her push-up, he called out “ninety-two!”

“Twenty seconds remaining,” Monroe, roared out to the struggling group.

Helen heard grunts groans and a few whines from other midshipmen around her intensify as they redoubled their efforts in a race to accumulate more repetition, before the timed finish. I’ll damn well do this! And she exhaled sharply on her next thrust upward, gulped in another breath at the top and quickly lowered herself once again.

Sweat beads broke out on her forehead and started to drip into a puddle below her on the dark blue synthetic floor of the gymnasium. Three more reps to go! Gritting her teeth, she willed herself, arm muscles shaking viciously ready to collapse from the exertion. Her focus was narrow. Rest a second at the top, arms locked. Her internal knowing of how to gut through this screamed at her. Locking at the top would help her recover for the last push. Two more! Do it! The effort almost made her collapse.

“Ten seconds!” Brian Monroe yelled. He’d already achieved a coveted spot to attend SEAL training. His scowl deepened as he observed Kennedy’s grim, sweaty features, her eyes hard and focused. There’s no way this bitch was going to make it. No damn way was she going to earn a coveted slot for BUD/S.

Helen clenched her teeth, sweat stinging her eyes. She mentally willed her trembling body to respond. Two more reps and she’d have it! She thought about her dream to be a SEAL and the power of it made her grunt out the next rep. Rest a split second, now push for all your worth! Muscles shook convulsively in her arms and across her chest.

“C’mon one last rep, Kennedy! You can do this!’ Dirty shouted up at her, goading her on.

Down quickly, her chest hitting Dirty’s fist with a smack, she heard it as if in the distance and then miraculously she finally felt her arms lock at the top.

“One hundred and one!” Dirty yelled out triumphantly as if she had just scored a winning touchdown.

“Time!” Monroe roared out to the midshipmen.

Helen gasped, sinking back against her heels, panting and gulping for air. She weakly pushed the sweat out of her burning eyes. “I did it,” she said breathlessly, looking at Dan, her friend who had always supported her at the Academy. He was grinning, pride shining in his brown eyes for her efforts as he came out of his prone position and into a crouch near her side.

“You even beat your goal by one!” Dirty praised, giving her a high five.

A roguish smile pulled at her mouth as she continued to suck in huge draughts of oxygen, her arms feeling like limp spaghetti. Helen gave her friend a triumphant look, pride surging through her. “Thanks, Dirty.”

Dan reached out and gave her a fist bump. “This number will add to your best swim time of the group. Your pull-ups and sit-ups were in the high numbers, so you’re looking good so far in the SEAL PST,” he said reassuringly.

She appreciated her loyal friend who had taken her under his wing the moment they’d met each other as Plebes. There was never at time that Helen hadn’t felt comfortable and secure with Dirty Dan. He had an easygoing attitude and treated her with respect and admiration, making her even more grateful to be his friend because she had a lot of enemies among the men who wanted her to fail. She watched in awe as he slowly unwound to his full six feet three-inches of height. He had military short wavy brown hair and intelligent green eyes that always gleamed with mischievousness.

Dirty was a bull of a man and he had a massive chest. He was already a starting fullback and star performer on the Academy’s football team. In the last game against Army, which had been a running dominant game for both teams, he’d been a superstar carrying the football, often to the thunderous applause of his fellow midshipmen. It had been the tenth win in a row against the Black Knights and made Navy a perfect ten as everyone was calling the football team now. Dirty was worshipped by everyone, no matter what their position at the Academy.

Helen sat down, crossed her legs and rested her weary arms on her knees. Dirty came and joined her, still grinning with pride at her. “How did you get the nickname ‘Dirty’?” she wondered, watching his grin broaden even more.

“I was in a couple of brawls in the past where I used incapacitating martial arts strikes. I’ll leave it to your imagination where those strikes might have gone,” he told her, his grin widening.

“And you did okay on the PST so far?” Helen demanded.

“Of course.”

“I sure hope we both get a slot Dirty. You’ve been a like the brother I always wished I had,” Helen told him sincerely, mopping her sweaty brow with a white towel.

“Give me your numbers everyone, so we can move on to the run, your last event,” Stapleton ordered in a superior tone which grated against Helen’s nerves. Stapleton was glaring directly at her.

They stood up and got in at the end of the long line.

At the front of the line, far ahead of them, Stapleton’s grating voice carried over the group. Helen hated his arrogance and drama. He demanded in a loud tone the partner give him the push-up numbers. Then, like a three-year old child, he’d scribble in the answer with a self-important flourish of his pen into the Navy logbook he held. She scowled.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to your two older brothers that attended the Academy to become SEAL’s?” Dirty asked in a low tone as they stood waiting in the line.

“No, I don’t mind. My oldest brother, Hank, was selected for BUD/s, but he quit during Hell Week on the second night.” Helen felt no remorse that her brothers hadn’t been successful in their bid to become SEAL’s. They had made her life miserable growing up. “My brother George also had aspirations of becoming a SEAL and followed Hank two years after he’d gone into the Academy. Unfortunately a year later, George was discharged by an Admiral’s board for disciplinary problems,” she said, keeping the grim satisfaction out of her tone. George had got what was coming to him. Outside another peal of thunder sounded.

“So? Are you the last great hope for the family then?” Dirty asked.

Helen felt a mix of competitiveness and sadness within her. How to put it nicely to Dirty, that she didn’t have the happy little family everyone thought she did. She’d been ignored in her family for her twenty years. She wondered if her brothers, Hank and George, had failed becoming a SEAL as cosmic retribution for their endless mental torture of her during their childhood together. “I’d hardly say that,” Helen muttered, frowning. “My parents aren’t very supportive of what I wanted. In fact, they’re trying to discourage me from becoming a SEAL.” The anger leaked through her husky voice no matter how much she tried to hide it.

“That’s crazy,” Dan growled, shaking his head. “You’ll do it.”

Helen gave him a warm, grateful look. Dirty was loyal to her, always her guard dog of sorts, keeping her enemies at bay. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“You said your dad is a Senator for Maryland and that he believed they were going to pass a bill allowing women in combat right?”

“He did tell me that, but not in a supportive way, but with disgust. He was crushed that my brothers didn’t make it to the Teams. My dad thought it would help his bid for election to a seat on the senate. He also saw one of my brothers following him into public office as a hero Navy man like my grandfather Jack Kennedy did, after World War Two. My parents think a woman’s place is in the home,” Helen muttered, unable to keep the contempt out of her tone.

She reined in her disgust of Doug Stapleton, looking like the lordly tyrant he was. She braced herself for his hatred of her. She had plenty of enemies here at Annapolis and this bastard was chief among them. Stepping up and snapping to attention, Helen gave Dirty’s score. “Midshipman Butler performed 135 push-ups sir,” she said keeping her voice respectful.

“Helen Kennedy performed 101 push-ups sir,” said Dirty with pride, at stiff attention.

Stapleton looked up icily, pen poised above the logbook and glared at them both.

“What! Give me that number again for Midshipman Kennedy?”

A strong wind gust outside pushed on the domed building and made it creak audibly.

Dan narrowed his eyes and raised himself up to his full six feet three inches, swelled his massive chest challengingly, giving Stapleton a withering returning glare.

The much smaller Stapleton dropped his gaze and begrudgingly wrote the numbers in the log, scribbling loudly.

“Well it shows that you’re not that strong in the upper body, Ms. Kennedy,” Stapleton said smugly, and he shook his head, looking at her other scores. “You only did fourteen pull-ups Ms. Kennedy,” he said contemptuously.

“She had the best swim time out of anyone, sir, and fourteen pull-ups is two more than the minimum competitive score,” Dirty pointed out, scowling.

“How did you do so well in the swim, Ms. Kennedy?” Stapleton demanded, barely glancing up at her and patently ignoring the football jock.

Helen knew Stapleton wanted her to lose her cool. He’d like any reason to report her for disrespect and have demerit points posted on her record. Helen drilled him with an expressionless stare, watching Stapleton’s adam’s apple bob. Yeah, shithead.That’s right. I’m one helluva swimmer. Better than your sorry ass will ever be. But she stood there poker-faced because she knew Stapleton wanted her to react. Screw him.

“I asked you a question midshipman 3rd class Kennedy, and you will give me a response!” Stapleton hissed through his clenched teeth.

The rain slowed to a barely discernable drizzle, as if sensing a coming confrontation. Everything became quiet and expectant. The confrontation became like a duel between two Kung Fu masters sizing each other up as they circled, looking for the right entry point to attack.

“I have been a competitive swimmer for most of my life, Midshipman 1st class Stapleton,” Helen said, keeping her voice even.

Frowning. Stapleton eyed her, hoping to see he was making her sweat. But it was the sharp rise and fall of her chest that gave away her effort to contain her anger. He grinned like a jackal.

“Well as a SEAL you have to be good at all aspects,” Stapleton said with a snide curl of his upper lip. He snapped the logbook shut with a loud and angry pop.

He glared around at the fifty midshipmen who had been drawn into the showdown. Ignoring the threatening glare from Dirty, he shouted irritably, “Change into your running clothes and head next door to the Halsey Field House.”

Another sneak peak at a future fiction novel of SEAL action with a twist that will intrigue. A new SEAL team will eventually be formed with hand selected operators with unique skills and the first female SEAL operator. The logo below is the SEAL trident with the Spartan inverted V symbol on a shield and the number sixteen. Sixteen will be the number of SEAL personal in a new highly secretive SEAL team that will be formed in future chapters of the book. The new team will have access to cutting edge technology, training and will be sent on extremely sensitive missions.

16

Chapter 3

Jake and his troop charged toward the gate of the compound at full sprint.

It was then that he saw a dark, cylindrical object flash in the corner of his left eye. Whatever it was, it was moving at high speed into the two-story building.

What was a huge black dart doing flying into the building? His confused brain tried to make sense out of what he just saw as he sprinted forward.

Then the whole world erupted in a blinding flash and a deafening sound pounded his ears. It felt as if a massive thunderbolthadsmashed into his body.

It was as if everything moved in slow motion at that point. Jake could see the ten-foot high mud brick wall disintegrate into powder and solid chunks of flying projectiles. Jake thought it looked like a frame-by-frame motion scene from an explosion in an action movie. The wall moved towards him like a tsunami. As the wave of debris reached him, an electric bolt of pain shot through him. He felt tremendous pressure, as if someone had swung a heavy sledgehammer and smashed it against his extended left knee.

Almost simultaneously as the pain and pressure hit him, a hot flash of energy and dust from the wave picked him up and sent him flying backwards. Jake crashed at an angle into Jordan, who had been behind him. While he was flying backwards, he could feel hundreds of small pieces of brick and mortar impacting his body armor, helmet, Oakley ballistic sunglasses and the exposed areas of his skin. Hundreds of red-hot like pokers jammed into the unprotected flesh of his neck and lower face.

He hit the ground with a loud grunt. Gasping like a fish out of water, the air was knocked out of him. Jake struggled to regain his breath in the dust-choked air. What the hell had just happened? His mind wouldn’t work right. Pieces of splintered wood and small chunks of mud mortar rained down on top of him. Dazed, he lay on his back looking up.

Check your body for injuries.

Everything seemed so still compared to all the bruising sounds he’d heard around him before. Jake willed himself to slowly sit up. Dust clogged the air, making him hack and cough. His ears were ringing so loud he couldn’t hear anything.

He examined his legs with badly trembling hands. A high-speed projectile had shattered the hard plastic kneepad on his left knee. Probably a piece of brick. Then, Jake slowly began to realize he and his team had been in an explosion.

Did the insurgents blow up their own compound? Senses dulled, Jake slowly shook his head, feeling disconnected, his mind wallowing in neutral. Slowly, he remembered the rapidly moving black dart and realized that someone must have called in an airstrike and hadn’t warned them over the radio before they unleashed that bomb. The slightly sweet smell of burnt almonds assailed his nostrils. He had often smelled that same odor after a JDAM, Joint Direct Attack Munition, had been used. What he thought was a giant dart was actually a five hundred pounder that had been GPS guided from an Air Force F-16 Fighting Falcon Jet.

Jesus, he was damned lucky to be alive.

Jake knew they had been using the drones all day for air support whenever the tangos had presented themselves as targets. The F-16’s had been on standby for emergencies, while the Reaper’s went back to base to get more Hellfire missiles.

His mind shorted out as he impatiently wiped the dust out of his watering eyes and spat the dirt out of his mouth. His brain started to come back online. Worried about his team, he called on the mic, “Troop Two, are you guys all right?”

Jake still could not hear anything from the ringing in his ears, not even his own voice. The dust began to settle and he could see the other members of his team beginning to sit up. He waved and they began to wave back to signal they were alive. He counted seven. Good, they were all alive!

Jake gingerly pulled at his kneepad. His knee was throbbing with pain. With difficulty, he finally got the pad off of his knee and down to his shin. Carefully, Jake felt his patella. It was shattered into several pieces. His gut clenched.

I’m not going to be able to hide this.

Throughout his ten-year career as a SEAL Jake had endured many aches and pains without letting anyone know. All SEAL’s worked silently through injuries at one time or another. But this time was going to be different, Jake grimly realized, feeling splintering, boiling pain beginning to radiate around the injured knee.

Jordan, who had been shielded from the blast by Jake and another of his teammates, crawled up to check him out as the others from his troop began to run back to the gully at a crouch. Jake realized the fight was still ongoing as he saw smoke and flashes coming from Red Squadron barrels. He looked up towards buildings further up the mountainside village and saw flashes of gunfire. The building he had been almost upon, had virtually disappeared leaving only a smoking crater in front of him.

Jordan was looking at him with concern showing through his scratched and bleeding face. He made the okay sign with his fingers.

Jake pointed towards his left knee and made a sign with his hands like he was breaking a stick to signify his knee was broken.

Jordan scowled, looked worried and nodded.

Jake figured they were all probably deafened by the blast because they said nothing. Jordan picked him up and slung him over his shoulders in a fireman’s hold and quickly carried him back to the ravine.

As his best friend carried him, Jake felt his injured leg below his shattered patella flopping around like a rag doll without the bone structure to support it. The pain was mind numbing. A wave of dizziness and nausea passed through him and he almost passed out.

They laid Jake down along the bank of the wadi and Mike, the 18 Delta Corpsman from his troop began working on him. He began a search from head to toe, rolling him on his side to check the back to search for any other injuries or exit wounds that might be life threatening, but not evident. As Mike worked on him, Jake could see the Red Men rushing by him to move forward and take up new fighting positions. They all shot him a concerned look as they raced by, but had no time to stop and find out what was happening.

Ed Summers was right across from him talking animatedly into a radio. Around him was his concerned troop members providing a protective wall around him. Jake was sure Ed was demanding why they hadn’t been informed there was bomb mission called in. Ed came over and put his hand on his shoulder and looking into his eyes Jake could see he was mouthing the words “I’m sorry.”

“I led this battle after those bastards all day, Ed. Keep at them, don’t let them escape!” Jake heard noise in his ears but wasn’t sure if the words came out right. It seemed to him that the sounds were echoing, as if he was in a deep tunnel.

Ed nodded and gave his shoulder a squeeze and then moved up the ravine behind the Red Men. An explosion from a Hellfire missile erupted up ahead. The grim Reapers had returned.

Once satisfied there were no other serious injuries, Mike took out an inflatable splint to isolate Jake’s injured leg for transportation. He wrapped it around his leg and blew it up through a one-way valve. Once it was tight, the medic capped the valve. Mike then pulled out a collapsible litter carrier from his medical ruck, extended it, and then snapped it together so that it was ridged. They gently placed Jake on the litter. Mike and Jordan picked him up and they began to move towards a hasty landing zone that was being set up for a medical evacuation site.

Jake saw several Rangers and a couple of CAG soldiers who had been wounded in the fight around the house as his teammates set him down in the triage area. Many of them had tourniquets on bloody arms and legs. Several soldiers were unconscious, or worse. Jake saw a few writhing in pain, as if being violently tortured by some unseen force. Medics were administering syrettes of morphine that every man carried on him in a medical kit, to stop their agony while they waited for the medevac.

Jake saw Mike out of the corner of his eye tearing open his medical pack and withdrawing bandages pre-coated with blood clotting agent. He began to feverishly stuff them into a small hole the size of a quarter in a thigh wound gushing blood. Mike held a finger in the wound on an artery that was severed while he stuffed in the gauze around and on it. This would stop the internal hemorrhaging and save that guy’s life. It was then he noticed it was a Delta buddy, Cujo, that he had just been talking to and laughing with only two days ago.

Tears jammed into his eyes. Instantly, Jake forced them back down. Mouth thinning, he held his feelings in tight check, struggling to put them behind the steel doors of his heart. But they wouldn’t go, dammit.

Jake knew from helping save several teammates over the years that the frequent use of tourniquets and stuffing wounds had evolved as the preferred method over inserting IV, intravenous, fluids. IV’s diluted the body’s natural blood clotting agents and caused blood to continue to flow, resulting in higher casualties.

Tears burned in his eyes and he turned away, struggling with his emotions. How frustrating to be so close to victory over the enemy and to be almost killed by friendly fire! Normally, he could easily control his emotions. But he’d never been wounded like this before, either.

The powerful thumping of the medevac’s blades was like invisible hands pounding suddenly against Jake’s prone body. He could see and feel the hurricane force winds created by the down blast of rotor wash from a helicopter, but he couldn’t hear the Chinook’s roaring dual engines. Dust exploded in every direction, rising hundreds of feet into the air, blotting out the helo. The pilot was going to have to land in a ‘brown out’ where he or she couldn’t see anything. It was seat of the pants flying at its best. Jake raised his hand, protecting his eyes as the dust rolled out, covering him and everyone else. Once the medevac landed, they’d fly them back to a prearranged trauma center at the nearby airbase in Kandahar.

When the dust cleared Jake could see two Apache attack helicopters hovering menacingly with devastating firepower capability. Ready, watching, willing to spring into action to protect the Ch-47 like a shepherd protects his flock from wolves.

Jake peered out the open back ramp of the long bus-like body of the twin rotor CH-47 Chinook helicopter. He jolted upright as the rocky mountainside above the war torn village erupted into multiple enormous fireballs. The flames quickly withdrew and disappear inside rapidly towering columns of dust and smoke. He watched in amazement as the dust column continued ever higher into the sky. The heavier, slower particles began spilling over the edge of the pulverized earth filled tubes. A mushroom shaped top began forming. It looked to Jake as if a nuclear explosion had gone off.

Jake spotted a pair of F-16’s banking in the distance and calculated they had each launched two, one thousand pound JDAM’s. It would have been a last ditch effort to catch the fleeing Taliban and Al Qaeda fighters before they slipped over the border as dusk fell.

Anger, red, hot, seethed through Jake as he hoped they had got all the tangos. Pressure concussion waves from the blasts passed by and the bird violently vibrated and shook. Suddenly, the helo dropped. They were in freefall mode!

Jake grabbed at the seat post next to where he lay on the metal deck. The Helo fell several hundred feet before grabbing stable air again. Jake collapsed against the deck, ragged gasps tearing out of him, relieved. He’d been in enough helicopter crashes over the years. He didn’t need one now.

To the west, Jake could see a blood red sun beginning to just touch the white peaks in the distance. Blood had run today and a grim satisfaction thrummed through him as he thought again, as he always did, about those three innocent children who had paid such an awful price.

After the CH-47 landed, nurses and doctors immediately rushed Jake and the other wounded down the ramp.

“Take the serious wounded into the operating room at once,” yelled the head nurse. Doctors worked feverishly to save and stabilize the men who had been severely wounded. Bagram airbase was the normal location for wounded treatment and it was there that it was normally determined if a patient needed more intensive care. In anticipation of the battle wounded, they had set up a facility to cut down the hour-long medevac flight to just a few minutes. Already, a C-17 transport jet was being readied to transport the critically wounded to Landstuhl, Germany, where specialized surgery and care would be provided.

Jake was wheeled into X-ray on a gurney and the technician had been astonished at his shattered patella pictures. The ringing in his ears was still there, but it was starting to fade. The technician said, “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Can I see?” Jake asked curiously.

“Sure,” the tech said, handing him the X-Ray. “Here are the pieces of what used to be your patella,” he said, pointing them out on the x-ray film.

“No wonder I couldn’t walk,” Jake muttered, staring hard at them.

He felt helpless lying on the metal bed. A doctor in his fifties with graying hair, wearing a white lab coat, entered the room.

“Whew, that was some kind of impact that caused this injury,” he said as he shook his head, studying the X-Ray photo. The doctor asked how he’d been wounded and Jake explained how the injury had happened. A few minutes later, several more doctors and nurses rushed in, looked at the X-rays and had him explain the injury again. Jake saw amazement in every face. He began to feel like the prize bull being paraded around, feeling exhaustion stealing through him, not to mention, shock debilitating him.

“You’ll have to be operated on in Landstuhl, German,” the head doctor finally said. “We don’t have the surgical capability at this location.” Giving Jake a respectful look, he added softly, “That must have been some battle you guys were in today.” The doctor eyed Jake’s blood soaked and splattered uniform.

“Yes, sir, it was pretty intense.” Jake said thickly. His emotions were raw. What was going to happen to him? Would he ever walk again? The horror of seeing his leg flopping as Jordan carried him to safety made him nauseous. Terror began eating at him. Jake had never known another life except as a SEAL. It was what he’d always wanted to be, nothing more. And now…God, was he going to LOSE his leg? Never walk again? He’d be thrown out of the only family he’d ever known. His SEAL family. Laying back, weakness stealing through him, his knee a dull, throbbing ache, Jake laid his arm across his eyes, wanting to blot out his future.

In less than an hour they had placed him in the C-17 in a metal-framed bed with a mattress. Around him were nearly two-dozen other beds with other wounded Americans. Three rows of beds stacked one over the other along the fuselage of the aircraft were set up so that medical personnel could continue to treat and stabilize them during their flight to Germany.

“Would you like a sleeping sedative for the long flight?” a kind female nurse with blond hair asked him.

“That would be great, thanks,” Jake said, thinking it would help take his mind off his situation.

It was then that he noticed a commotion on the ramp of the bird and looked up to see Jordan running up. He was breathless, as if he had humped with a hundred pound ruck on his back from the other side of the runway where the helo’s set down. His face was still sweaty and grimy, gleaming as he came to a halt, his teeth starkly white against his dirty skin. Eyes burning with concern, Jordan gripped his hand.

“I’ll see you in Germany in a few days, Bro,” he said placing his other hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, everything will be fine Jake,” he said with a confident grin. “You’ve landed in shit before and come out smelling like a rose. This is one of those times, Brother.”

Jake’s throat tightened. “How are you going to get there, Rebel? Aren’t you going to be working?”

Jordan gave him an amused look. “No. Ed told me we’re at the end of our deployment and he was sending me after you to make sure you get proper care and to escort you back to Virginia Beach safely.”

“That’s awesome. Thank Ed for me will you?.”

“Roger that.”

They clasped hands and shook. Jake felt slightly energized again, his heart swelling in his chest over Jordan’s loyalty, a lump forming in his throat. His family was taking care of him, just as he’d taken care of other members of his platoon for so many years. Now, it was his turn.

“You’re going to have to leave,” the plane’s crew chief, a woman, told Jordan brusquely. “We’re about to take off and we’ve got critically wounded on board.”

Jordan gave the crew chief a narrow-eyed look, suddenly focused on her.

Jake gripped Jordan’s hand, trying to get him to leave the crew chief alone. She was doing her job. He knew Jordan was still high on the adrenaline rush of combat. “Hey,” he called to his friend, “take off. I’ll see you soon.” His voice grew hoarse as he suddenly saw moisture in Jordan’s blue eyes. Jake felt his throat close.

“Damn you, don’t you DARE cry, Jordan.”

That silly-assed grin of his pulled at his mouth. “I keep tellin’ all you knuckleheads that it’s all right to shed a tear or two. Nothin’ wrong with it.”

Jake cursed softly. “Your hillbilly roots are showin’, Rebel. Get the hell off this plane before—

“No worries, Jake. I’ll let you keep that tough SEAL game face of yours in place,” and Jordan gave him a look of care, patted his shoulder gently and then released his hand and started towards the ramp.

Rebel turned suddenly as if he had forgotten something. “Oh, thanks for saving my life, Bro. You took that JDAM blast for me.”

“You would’ve done the same for me. Now get the hell outa here before they take off with you on board and I have to listen to more of your touchy-feely shit.”

Jake watched him grin proudly, turn and stroll down through the C-17, waving at the female crew chief as he departed like he owned the damned thing. But then, he was a SEAL.

In what seemed like only a few minutes Jake felt the rumble of the big turbo engines on the jet as it rolled and shook down the runway. He became slightly weightless feeling as the bird flung itself airborne. Jake worried if the doctors would be able to fix his knee so that he could still be an operator. Moonlight streamed through one of the windows next to his bed and he looked out at a crescent moon. The symbol of the crescent moon was on the flag of many Muslim countries. He knew from his own research into the history of Islam that it was the symbol of Archangel Gabriel, the messenger of God, who had brought the message of peace to the prophet Mohammad.

Peace? What or who had distorted Gabriel’s message of peace so horribly? He had an obsessive hatred for those murderous fanatics. Jake felt himself drifting off into an uneasy sleep as the C-17 reached altitude and started to bank towards Germany.

I’m posting this entire list of my past lives so that more people can be exposed to what is possible once you begin connecting with your own past lives.

This list is not complete and will be added to over time. The lives marked with a question mark are being researched and have not been confirmed yet. I feel strongly enough that they were my past lives that I have included them. While my intuition of past lifetimes has grown over time I’m still not 100% but very close.

This lives are often researched extensively to find my thread or relationship.

I have often had multiple simultaneous lifetimes. The work of Dr. Michael Newton and several others has discovered that we have between 3-7% of reincarnating souls having more than one lifetime at any one period of time.

When we incarnate we bring in a certain amount of energy. Say you incarnate with 25% of your soul energy it leaves your soul in the life between lives area often called heaven with 75% energy for potentially other lifetimes. This extra energy could also be harnessed during a lifetime if a soul decides to take on further challenges. The soul could also come in with higher amounts of energy to begin with if it is taking on what it considers a potentially challenging lifetime say 50-60% of it’s available energy.

A refined or advanced soul may come in with 25% energy but this energy is of such high quality that when the going gets tough not as much is needed.

There are several possibilities and potentials in lifetimes for experiencing a human existence. I have gleaned the material for understanding my lifetimes and interaction with other souls from studying the available information and from my own thoughts, meditations, past life regressions and from multiple highly gifted psychics and channels. The ideas, discussion and ongoing development of souls incarnating will continue to influence the journey of souls incarnating on earth.

As you look through my incarnation information I have included links for further reflection and knowledge. As many of you scroll through the list you will be stunned at the many of the names that you see.

I have only shared this list with a few people and they have all seen themselves within many of these lifetimes. This is the intent of sharing this list. I have a strong desire to inform humanity that they are far more than the life they are leading. We are all very powerful and wonderful beings.

If you find yourself intrigued by a certain name research that lifetime and as you are reading about it observe what thoughts come up for you.

I have not only discovered many of my own lives but also the lives of my soul mate.

I have seen many descriptions over the years of soul mates. My understanding and the one that I will continue to share throughout my books is that of a separate half of myself. I inhabit the male side and my literal other half is female. We can switch genders throughout our many lifetimes but I have found only male lives and female lives for my soul mate. My soul mate is my current wife Tracy and I will eventually include a list of her lives. We both are learning together and support each other in our different life missions.

I have also discovered that we all incarnate in groups initially and I have come to understand these as our twin souls and are like siblings. These twin soul groups which every soul is a part of come in as 6 – 12 souls. My twin soul group has 8 souls total.

1. Myself and my soul mate Tracy are as one

2. I will call her Kat and she is listed in my book The Awakening of a Warrior as the Pharaoh queen Hatshepsut. She has discovered almost as many lives as I have after I revealed my list below to her less than a year ago. We will often work closely throughout time to accomplish major goals with not only our soul mates but also our twin soul group. Kat has been mother, daughter, sister and wife throughout time in our mutual goal to help humanity.

3. B is often paired with Kat throughout time. They are closer to soul mates than they are twin souls. One of his lifetimes was as Spartan king Leonidas another chapter I discuss in my new book. My soul mate Tracy was queen Gorgo in that lifetime. As twin soul groups we will support each other in many different incarnations. B has been an architect in may lifetimes building Solomon;s temple as Hiram Abiff and more recently as famous Frank Lloyd Wright who never attended architect school. He didn’t need to.

4. I speak of Hercules in my book in a chapter when I was King Idomeneus of Crete during the Trojan war. A picture of the trojan horse dominates the cover of the book. Another lifetime of Hercules you may be familiar with was the US WWII General Patton. I have found many lifetimes of Patton’s who also believed in reincarnation.

5. Alexander the Great (ATG) will be in the first chapter of my next book. This twin soul was also at the Trojan war as Achilles and I will discuss a lifetime as the general Rufio in another chapter of the next book supporting another of his incarnations as Julius Caesar. He was also my son Cambyses II in my chapter as Cyrus the Great. He was also my brother Arjuna when I was king Yudhisthira of India the first chapter of The Awakening of a Warrior. I have discovered many lifetimes working with (ATG).

6. Another twin soul I have discovered and had positively identified by the channel Kevin Ryerson was Dr. Wayne Dyer. Dyer was my brother Sahadeva during the Kurukshetra War in the epic book Mahabharata.He would also be Brother Leo and I would be brother Angelo with St Francis of Asissi. St. Francis is the reincarnation of the current Pope Francis who is implementing many of the reforms that St. Francis did during his lifetime. It’s a mission he put off for a long time. I have been a long time follower of Dr. Dyer’s work and recently was excited to see that he has started his own past life discovery. Perhaps someday we can work together on this highly evolving process that everyone can benefit from. I’m sure we have worked together in many lifetimes.

7. The only life I have discovered for twin soul Dr. Deepak Chopra is as my brother Nakula. Nakula and Sahadeva were twin souls and when I saw Dr’s Chopra and Dyer do a special PBS show together I thought they were like brothers. I have also been a long term fan of Dr Chopra and like twin souls do throughout time he has been a major contributing factor in my personal spiritual development and I hope that someday perhaps some of my insights my help influence him as well.

8. I have an unusually close affinity to this twin soul to the point where I thought I was him in several lifetimes he has had. We have such a close affinity for our twin souls that we will learn what they learn and vice versa. I have found this from my interactions with my soul mate, twin souls and larger soul group which I will talk about next. The prophet Mohamed was supported by almost our entire soul group. I saw all of our soul group as I read the about the life of Mohammed. I will write about his incarnation and what he was trying to accomplish and that our larger soul group was working to inform a group of humanity that was ready to advance. This has happened throughout time with my soul group. I have been with many spiritual masters and then returned to see that their work was continued. You will see this in the list below. Mohammed also incarnated as one of the seven kings of Abraham of which I was one as well as I discuss this lifetime in detail in one of my chapters. He was also the Kurdish Muslim General Saladin and Akbar the Great.

When I studied Akbar’s life I had so many of my own life threads I was sure it was me. I guess we have a close affinity with each other doing similar work and of course being a twin soul. Mohammed has reincarnated in Egypt. Saladin was the sultan of Egypt in his lifetime. We often return to areas that we can have the most impact and have deep spiritual roots laid. I think Egypt can potentially be a major factor in taking the religion of Islam to a higher spiritual level. Similar to it’s roots in Judaism. Christianity has evolved to higher levels after it was brought to a level to appeal to more people. Christianity is also on the brink of evolving to a higher level.

Judaism is of course the root of both religions and as I study the Kabbalah I find all the information that I have taken a lifetime looking for in a wide range of spiritual and metaphysical teachings. I would recommend the Kabbalah to anyone of any faith because it is not a religion but an advanced set of teachings. Lessons about spirituality where everyone is involved and learning is extremely different from being involved in a one way form of imprinting information. I grew up happily as a southern Baptist but find that I am currently a disciple of all the religions on earth. There have been so many wonderful and fascinating teachers throughout time why limit myself to just one? Reminds me of a quote by the philosopher Socrates when asked what country did he consider himself a citizen of and his replay was that he was a citizen of the world. After discovering all of my many past lives I feel that sentiment fits me perfectly.

I could take a group of these past lives and show you a multitude of interconnections throughout time. Interactions and life purposes shared with my larger soul group for instance. I have discovered several of my soul group throughout time. A couple of famous one’s in history were Jesus and Mary Magdalene his soul mate. Jesus and I had many past life incarnations working together as I talk about in The Awakening of a Warrior. The actress Shirley McLaine is in my soul group as is Kevin Ryerson who was my friend during the life of Jesus as John the Apostle. Another member of my soul group which can average between 12 and 20 souls is Michael Tomlinson who I wrote an article with on the website recently.

What is it like to discover a past life and do you have memories within these lives as you do in your current one? Yes, as you begin to connect with these lifetimes the memories will begin to come to you in greater and detail. If I asked you to recall what you ate three weeks ago for dinner your recall would not be instant. You would have to meditate for a moment or maybe longer but eventually you would get a sliver of a memory and then more detail would come through. Maybe you would ask someone you ate with and between the two of you you would work it out. For a long time I wondered what it would be like to meet someone that had recall and Michael Tomlinson arrived.

Here is my list of past lives. I hope that it stimulates your own awakening.

Table of Contents

The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Forward

Introduction

Chapter I King Yudhisthira of India during the time when the Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita was written C.3500 BCE

Chapter II How to Access Your Own Previous life Incarnations

Chapter III With Pharaoh Menes the Unifier of Upper and Lower Egypt as His Special Forces Nubian Head Charioteer C. 3100 BCE

Chapter XVIII ?Pope Leo I (c. 400 – 10 November 461), also known as Saint Leo the Great, reigned from 29 September 440 to his death in 461. He was an Italianaristocrat, and was the first pope to have been called “the Great”. He is perhaps best known for having met Attila the Hun in 452 and persuading him to turn back from his invasion of Italy.

ly.

Chapter XVIII Clovis(466 – 511) was the first king of the Franks to unite all of the Frankish tribes under one ruler, changing the form of leadership from a group of royal chieftains to rule by a single king and ensuring that the kingship was passed down to his heirs. He is considered the founder of the Merovingian dynasty, which ruled the Franks for the next two centuries.

Chapter XII Henry I King of England 1068 – 1 December 1135 youngest son of William the Conqueror

Chapter XIII Empress Matilda (Twin Soul Kathy) of England 7 February 1102 – 10 September 1167 Daughter of Henry I helps regain the throne for the line of William the Conquerer

Chapter XIV Everard des Barres Third Knight Templar Grand Master (1147-1151) led the Second Crusade with King Louis VII. Saves the lives of King Louis VII and Eleanor of Aquitaine future wife of Henry II.

Chapter III Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy during the Imjin war in the Joseon Dynasty, and is well-respected for his exemplary conduct on and off the battlefield not only by Koreans, but by Japanese Admirals as well. Military historians have compared his naval genius to that of Admiral Horatio Nelson.

Chapter XIII Horatio Nelson, 1st Viscount Nelson, (29 September 1758 – 21 October 1805) Admiral British Navy. Mistress in later life Emma, Lady Hamilton was an early incarnation of soul group and occasional twin soul Actress Shirley McLaine

Chapter XIV Colonel Nathan James Johnson with George Washington at Valley Forge and a Congressman with Thomas Jefferson 1776

Chapter XV General Pierre Jacques Étienne Cambronne(26 December 1770 – 29 January 1842) Commander of the Old Guard with Napoleon 1806. Prevented the army of Napoleon from being annihilated after defeat and retreat from Waterloo.

Chapter XXI William Randolph Hearst April 29, 1863 – August 14, 1951 was an American newspaper publisher who built the nation’s largest newspaper chain and whose methods profoundly influenced American journalism.[2] Hearst entered the publishing business in 1887 after taking control of The San Francisco Examiner from his father. Moving to New York City, he acquired The New York Journal and engaged in a bitter circulation war with Joseph Pulitzer‘s New York World that led to the creation of yellow journalism—sensationalized stories of dubious veracity. Acquiring more newspapers, Hearst created a chain that numbered nearly 30 papers in major American cities at its peak. He later expanded to magazines, creating the largest newspaper and magazine business in the world. Long time mistress Marion Davis was soul mate.

Chapter XXII WW I Tank Commander with Patton

Chapter XXIII ?Mohammad Mosaddegh (16 June 1882 – 5 March 1967), was the democratically elected Prime Minister of Iran from 1951 until 1953, when his government was overthrown in a coup d’état orchestrated by the BritishMI6 and the AmericanCIA. An author, administrator, lawyer, prominent parliamentarian, his administration introduced a range of progressive social and political reforms such as social security, rent control, and land reforms. His government’s most notable policy, however, was the nationalization of the Iranian oil industry, which had been under British control since 1913 through the Anglo-Persian Oil Company (APOC / AIOC) (later British Petroleum or BP).

16

CHAPTER 2

Kerosene lanterns spaced evenly along the walls of the cavern flickered, jumped and twisted like grotesque, tortured figures. The eerie light caused a whiteout effect in Jake’s NVG’s whenever he scanned for movement. It was deathly quiet. It was like they were all in a horror movie searching for the undead in the subterranean chamber of a castle.

The SEAL team six and CAG soldiers began to fan out at the bottom of the stairs. Jake saw the tables and combat equipment were strewn in chaos about the floor as if the enemy had made a mad dash to leave in one helluva hurry. But where could they go? There was only one exit back towards the surface where they had come from. The odor of burnt motor oil assailed his nostrils. As an assault team explosive breacher, Jake had used military grade dynamite to open up blockages in tunnels and he instantly recognized the smell. The sight of pulverized rocks fanning out from one of the chambers quickly confirmed his suspicions.

“Break into groups and search the passageways,” he ordered. “Looks like the bastards made their escape!”

The men quickly formed into assault groups, lined up behind each other on six tunnels as their troop leaders shouted, “Go! Go! Go!”

“Form on me, Troop Two,” Jake shouted as he ran to the probable escape tunnel. The toes of his boots dug deep in the fine, gray soil, dust exploding around him. He sprinted into the tunnel with his muzzle down, ready for action. Sweat trickled down his temples. His breath was short and sharp as he took up position in the center. Sliding to a halt, his voice tight, he pointed to an open doorway, while keeping his muzzle and focus down the tunnel passageway.

“Two right.”

Two of his men exploded into the room to clear it. His breath was labored from excitement and he willed himself to calm down. Dust clung to his nostrils and face, itching. Sweat stung his eyes. He blinked rapidly and told himself to ratchet down. Breathe deeply from the diaphragm as you learned in martial arts.

“Damn,” he muttered angrily as his team moved methodically down the tunnel. Where the hell were the tangos? Checking each room to make sure they didn’t leave themselves exposed to a rear ambush, his team found no one.

“They’ve hightailed it,” Jordan muttered, coming to a halt near Jake.

“Those bastards have some how escaped,” Jake agreed, a grate of frustration mirrored in his voice. He glanced over at Jordan. “Take point, Rebel.” He pulled his muzzle up and let Jordan take over.

“Roger,” he said, focused discipline in his voice.

“Red Team leader, Red Two, we are investigating a possible breakout in the lower level,” Jake informed the commanding officer of his squadron.

“Roger Red Two, notify me when you have confirmation and I’ll send the Reaper Drones, to begin searching in that vicinity outside the cave system.”

Jordan and Jake began to stagger, slip and almost fall at times over the mounting, slippery rock debris as they moved further down the empty tunnel. Jake began to notice that light was bouncing off the curve of the right hand turn on the wall ahead of them. When they rounded the corner, the Troop all stood transfixed, eyes widening in disbelief.

Jordan whistled and whispered with awe in his southern drawl, “They didn’t spare the explosives on this exit hole, did they?”

Twisting his head around, Jake saw the blast had taken out a massive portion of the mountain, the opening as tall as a three-story building. As they rotated their NVG’s up on their helmet rails, locking them on top of their helmets, a striking view of a lush, green valley and steep, rocky mountain range across from them, revealed itself.

One of their teammates, Rudy came up and stood next to Jake. “At least they won’t be using that demo on American troops and Afghan civilians,” he growled, contempt in his tone.

Jake nodded. “Red Leader, the Taliban has blasted an escape hole on the southeastern face of the mountain. We have no visual on any troop movement at this time, over.”

“Roger Red Two, we will relocate the entire team to your position and initiate search and destroy mission.”

“Good!” Jake felt triumph explode through his chest as he turned to his men and said, “We’re going to continue to track down those assholes until we wipe them out. Let’s get briefed,” he ordered his men, turning around.

Ed Summers huddled his men together for the brief. “The Reaper’s controllers observed several of the Taliban fleeing into the closest village down from the breakout point.”

The sun’s rays warmed Jake as he stood, listening to the new plan. The satisfaction flowed through Jake as the hunt was finally on again. They broke up, heading for the CH-47 helicopters that were coming in to pick them up.

Once on board the Chinook, Jake felt like an entrapped thoroughbred at the gate, seconds before the bell rang, allowing the gates to fly open so he could gallop free. Edgy restlessness and tension fired the muscles from his crouched position on the canvas seat. He was squeezed in with every team member that could find a place to be in on this hunt. His boot tapped on the deck of the shaking, shuddering helo as it flew them toward the coming confrontation. His destiny with the enemy stalked him, unseen and unknown and he tasted sweet revenge in his mouth.

“The Ride of the Valkyries” is playing in my head Jake shouted into Jordan’s ear as they headed rapidly towards the village.

“I Love the smell of Napalm in the Morning” Jordan said, grinning in reference to the song and the movie quote from “Apocalypse Now”.

He listened as one of the Reaper’s operators updated them through their comms as they flew nose down and tail up increasing to combat insertion speed.

“The villagers are either fleeing or are being driven out by the Taliban,” one controller said, his voice charged with excitement, ready for the coming action.

Jake’s mouth thinned with impatience. The villagers were lucky, scum like these bastards would normally use them as human shields.

The first Flying Banana that landed kicked up dust in every direction from the spinning twin rotors.

From a window of the helo, Jake could see two Afghan villages laid out before him like miniature buildings in a sand box that they used for briefings. They had spied those villages from the blown out hole in the mountainside and this vantage point gave him a better idea of what they were up against. Further in the distance to the West, Jake saw the sprawling town of Spin Boldak. Spin, as he had covered in his Intel brief, was the one of the most active border crossing points between Afghanistan and Pakistan.

He felt the helo lurch under him as it descended rapidly in an evasive flight pattern in full combat mode, door gunner tense and alert on her six-barreled 7.62 minigun. Flaring at the last minute, the bird prepared to land. Jake felt the hard landing travel up through his spine as the helo dropped into the loose gravel and sandy soil.

The thunder of the Boeing helo’s two massive engines and whirling blades shook the fuselage and his canvas seat so hard Jake felt it was going to tear apart. The high pitch speed was needed in case they took fire and had to rapidly take off to avoid being hit.

“Let’s go!” Jake yelled as he leaped up. Elated to be on the ground and on the hunt, the visceral reaction flowed powerfully through him as he led the charge off the ramp of the CH-46. They sprinted towards the ramp of the helo with gun muzzles down. The aluminum, corrugated ramp reminded him of a Navy landing craft and they were storming the beaches of Normandy in WWII. Only this time, storming from the air to hunt down the enemy.

The hurricane force winds of nearly one hundred miles an hour from the prop blasts buffeted his body, around making it impossible to run in a straight line. The brown out, a violent sandstorm that was generated by the blades blasted the exposed parts of his body in what felt like thousands of tiny pinpricks gouging into his flesh.

He could see stretched out before him nearly fifty brown mud brick houses of the village. Limbs of lush green trees and bushes were flailing madly back and forth from the helo’s turbo blasted air mixed with sun and heated desert air. The hot kerosene smell poured out the engines exhaust and covered him with its noxious odor.

“Break right, Red Team,” Jake bellowed over his right shoulder.

Jake glanced left and saw CAG and a new group of fresh Rangers pouring off their helo’s to the left flank of the village houses.

.

Jake watched in horror as an RPG rocketed out of the house in front of them and passed close to one of the helo’s before exploding behind it. He glimpsed his last man hurriedly leaping off the ramp. Relief tunneled through Jake as he watched the helo spring instantly upward as if it was on a coiled spring and into the air. The door gunner mashed her trigger to cover their escape as the bird blasted off the target.

Burrrrr.

Flames leapt from the six barrels of the electric powered Gatling gun on board the helo as a stream of hundreds of rounds flew into the brown and red mud brick houses just ahead of them.

Jake watched as mini explosions smashed into the house, peppering the external walls from one end to another as the gunner whipped the weapon back and forth. Screams of Taliban men pierced the air where they had been hiding in those buildings.

“Game on!” Jake shouted into his comms as he ran. “We’re taking RPG fire and going hot, Red Leader.” Huffing, explosions of air erupted out of his opened mouth, Jake heard Summer respond. Now, it was time to rock ‘n roll.

Jake roared, “Send ‘em to hell Red Two!” and they opened up, tracer rounds reaching out and pounding through and around the window where the shot came from as they ran toward the house. Jake heard more glass shatter and the bricks surrounding the windows exploded into pieces and became deadly projectiles flying into the house.

Fine dust choked the air making it difficult to see due to the helo’s taking off, dispersing the dust hundreds of feet into the air. He felt as if he were in a fog. Coughing the dust out of his tortured lungs, Jake smelled the farmers livestock animal dung mixed in with the rolling, swirling dust surrounding them. The fine dust stuck to everyone’s sweaty features, turning them dark as they charged toward the house where the RPG was shot from.

Whoosh! Boom!

Jake jerked his chin up, the sound of an explosion coming from behind the building they were assaulting. The remote controller in White Sands, New Mexico had fired a hellfire missile from the overhead Predator, providing air support on their right flank. Fleeing Taliban fighters running out the back were blasted into pieces. The air turned into a red mist.

Jake heard more explosions coming from their left flank.

Whoosh! Boom! Boom!

The air vibrated violently with the explosion. Two more Hellfire missiles had exploded deeper into the village. The air was rent with small, violent earthquakes shaking the air apart around them. Automatic weapons fire cranked up from the heavy weapons men of the Ranger Battalion on the left side of the village.

Jake glanced left and saw the white flashes of explosions followed by Delta warriors firing as they ran. “Get some boys” Jake yelled across the village. “Hammer those son’s of bitches!”

“Clear all the houses” Jake barked into his mic to his Delta friends, “Don’t let any of these bastards escape.” Above all, Jake didn’t want Zawahiri, the ringleader of having the children murdered, slip away to kill again. The rest of the Rangers still gathering Intel in the cave complex had passed on earlier that his body wasn’t among those killed. The bastard had escaped. Not for long if Jake had anything to do with it.

Jake initiated the assault into the first house where the original RPG had been fired fro. He aimed his M-4, firing into the doorframe next to the doorknob as they galloped forward. Rounds splintered the frame, exploding in all directions. The door cracked open just before he hit the inward opening door on the run, smashing it open with a loud bang into the wall. Four of them instantly flooded the room and all silenced M-4’s began firing at two-bearded tango’s limping out the open back door. Rounds tore into their bodies and heads sending them both crashing to the concrete floor. Splattered blood and pockmarked holes in the house’s white walls. It left a gruesome testimony of their artwork.

Jake heard more firing in the next house down the dirt street as they came out of the door of their cleared house. He saw a group of Red Men move quickly and meticulously through their sector of the village. “Cover the roof of that two story house,” Jake ordered, pointing down the street calling out, as he positioned his men. “Jordan take up position on the corner of that house.”

“Roger that, Chief,” Jordan said as he moved with gun raised up to eye level, carefully scanning as he moved up the narrow street to take up position.

Jake halted for a moment in the middle of a rutted street, two mud houses on either side of him. Lifting his arm, he wiped his mouth with the back of the sleeve. He watched as both forces methodically worked their way through the village, killing, or driving out any Taliban they ran up against. Jake could see that none of the tango’s were surrendering. Choosing to fight to the death.That’s perfectly all right with me…

A herd of about twenty-five abandoned, frightened brown and white goats moved all around Jake through the street. “Excuse me, Ma’am” Jake wisecracked as a female goat and her babies impeded his forward movement. The mother goat locked eyes with him with expressive blue eyes and as if she understood he was a friendly and quickly moved her babies around him, bleating and baaing.

Their bells tinkled and their bleating sounds echoed off the buildings. Their pungent smell wafted by Jake’s nostrils. He hated the smell of goats and goat dung, cute or not.

Automatic weapons fire from AK-47’s and the spit of silenced M-4’s, curses in Pashtu and English from inside the building next to the herd, broke the serene moment. It sent the herd of goats scurrying and bleating out their own brand of warning, racing down the street.

Jake rapidly scanned the surroundings at the edge of the village, holding security with his team. Several of his men were on a knee as they were grabbing a five-minute rest.

Whoosh, boom!

Squinting, Jake looked up. The Reaper’s were high in the sky and still firing Hellfire missiles here and there in the valley below them. When a missile struck its target, he saw brilliant, blinding light followed a split second later by the loud thunder clap of an explosion. Concussion waves walked and rippled throughout the village, vibrating through his guts and chest.

Jake lowered his narrowing gaze. He saw movement through green foliage further down in the valley. “Look! There are those assholes, in the valley making their way to the next village,” he yelled.. Jake ordered his team into a hard trot to go after them.

“We’re through the village, Red Leader. Enemy troops still in sight, continuing pursuit.” Jake called out through explosive gasps of air. Sweat streamed down his face and he could feel his specially made Cry Precision desert cammo uniform stained with blood and dirt sticking to him, soaking wet. “Stay hydrated, men,” he called out grabbing his own Camelbak water tube, hanging over his left shoulder. The teipid water felt good running down his dry, tight throat.

The sun was getting lower in the sky over their right shoulders and began to cast frantic shadows of their running forms on the sandy ground ahead of them.

The rate of fire had been gradually picking up as the assault force picked off the stragglers in the rear. Any Taliban that were caught fleeing in the open, were shot. The mountains that were normally brown and dry were lush and green with foliage from the winter snowmelt and rains. This afforded concealment for the tangos as they tried to escape. Jake heard what sounded like angry hornets zipping over their heads. He had heard that sound many times and it usually sent a chill through him whenever he heard it. The sound he knew all to well was the sonic crack of supersonic bullets breaking the sound barrier over their heads. “Jordan remember that time we were stung by hornets as boy’s in the swamp?” Jake called as out as they ran.

“Yea, but I’m pretty sure the stingers on those are a might bit more painful,” and Jordan snickered.

As they looked up, pieces of leaves, twigs and bark began to shower down on them as if they were in a thunderstorm. Jake cursed softly. “That fire is still ineffective men, so we are going to press ahead,” he called out as they continued forward at a trot, ready for action.

“Red Leader,” Jake called, “we’re taking ineffective fire over our heads, but it’s a little close for comfort. Can the Reapers locate and illuminate the threat?”

“Negative Red Two, the UAV’s, Unmanned Aerial Vehicles, have no visible targets. They must be shooting from inside houses.”

“Roger.” Jake replied, disheartened and worried for his men’s safety. House-to-house searches were the most deadly to them.

Jake broke out of the concealment first at the edge of the last village before the Pakistan border. He saw flashes coming from deep inside a darkened house

“Take cover!” Jake yelled over his shoulder as he dove for a group of small boulders to his right. Crack, crack, crack as rounds exploded in the stones, sending rock chips and dust screaming in every direction.

Jordan landed next to him, “That was close, Jake,” he grunted in a strained voice. They hugged the ground trying to make small.

“Too fuckin’ close.” Jake saw they were on the top edge of a ravine that ran up the right side of the village. “Break to the right, Red Squadron.”

“There’s a wadi, ravine, we can use as cover and concealment,” Jordan pointed out, gesturing sharply to his right.

Jake nodded and rolled to the right between two larger boulders and sighted in on a figure holding a weapon at about three hundred yards inside a building. It was a long shot with a short-barreled weapon. The red dot from his EOTECH sight was lined up on the head of the tango as Jake gently squeezed the trigger, dropping him with the first shot.

Two more figures dropped in quick succession as Jordan joined him in the shooting.

The Taliban broke contact and began running further into the village. The tango’s looked back, desperation and hatred in their faces. Fear showed in their eyes, their movements jerky for the first time in the fight. Two Red Team snipers raced up with their 300 Win-mag’s with bipods. “Take it to ‘em boy’s” Jake said. The snipers hit the ground with a sharp exhale of air and took aim through their long scopes. Two more tango’s with thick, black beards and loose fitting, brown salwar kameez clothing, were sent sprawling. Dust clouds erupted where their bodies slammed backward into the ground.

The Taliban were nearing the border with Pakistan, which lay less than a mile on the opposite side of the village.

Jake felt his anxiety. The strain from over twelve hours of hard fighting was beginning to tell on everyone. Sweat rolling down his face in rivulets, he shouted into the mic to his team, “Sunset’s getting close. Let’s finish these fuckers before they get across the border!” Their shadows were getting longer now as the sun dipped lower towards the horizon.

Jake had been on missions in the past where they had penetrated Pakistan for several miles, chasing fleeing Taliban. The CIA Chief of Station and Admiral McCafferty via secure videophone had told them specifically and unequivocally during the mission briefing, “Do not under any circumstance cross over the border during the operation.”

“What’s that about?” Jake had wondered out loud to Jordan during the brief. “We normally chase those bastards down until we finish them.”

Jordan had shrugged at the time. “Got me Chief.”

Now that order was weighing heavily on them.

Jake and Jordon with the rest of Troop Two raced ahead on point of the Red Men. They were on the right flank of a pincer movement. CAG and the Rangers were clearing up the left side of the village like a volcano spewing magma, consuming everything in its path. Jake knew they needed to extend their lines so that they came together above the remaining Al- Qaeda group so that none could escape. The two teams would then collapse in on them and destroy with a vengeance what was left. Jake remembered the historic Battle of Cannae in which the Carthaginian general, Hannibal, had annihilated eighty thousand Roman legionnaires in a similar pincer’s movement.

He grinned and glanced at Jordan and said in a raspy general Patton tone, “I hope like Hannibal we can destroy these sons of bitches.”

Jordan gave him an evil grin and a nod, continuing on at a fast pace, the village houses on their left.

The sound of a Soviet era DShK .50 caliber machine gun erupting snapped Jake out of his revelry.

Thump, thump, thump, fast, heavy, loud, just ahead and on the left of their ravine. Jake could hear yelling, screaming and shouting in at least two different languages. His heart clenched and seemed to miss a beat when he determined the screams were that of American soldiers calling for help.

“Come on men! We’ve got to help them,” Jake shouted over his right shoulder. They picked up the pace, all of them now breathing hard with the extra exertion and adrenaline dumping into their bodies.

Jake made an instant assessment that the side of the two-story building they were advancing towards was not being watched. All of the Taliban in the house were focused on the exposed CAG assault group.

“Red leader, we are moving in to assist CAG,” Jake gasped. He’d barely gotten the words out as they picked the pace up to a sprint.

“Roger Red Two, we will cover you from the wadi,” Ed’s voice came back in ragged breaths as the command element rushed up to help provide cover.

Rasps of air tore out of Jake’s mouth as he lunged forward, scrambling through the ravine, leaping over small boulders, dodging thick, entangling brush, the shouts and screams of the trapped Americans growing louder. Now more urgent.

A sharp, nagging thought pulled at Jake that he should hold his position. Stay where they were. But men were in trouble. THEIR men. He dismissed it as an unwanted distraction and refocused on sprinting even faster, his legs cramping with the sheer power of his long strides and lunges.

Jake motioned with his left bloodstained gloved hand. He pointed where he wanted his troop to follow him. They were racing like thoroughbreds toward a metal gate in a ten-foot high perimeter wall. Anger surged through Jake as he thought of the Talban manning the machine gun cutting down his friends in Delta and the Ranger Battalion. Focus that anger. Use it to power my muscles. Use the anger to smash through that gate and enter the building like a tornado rips a house apart.

We’re going to make it! Jubilation soared through him. Jake could hear his band of brothers in step right behind him. They surged forward, like the thrust of a Spartan spearhead towards the gate.

In my new book “The Awakening of Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered” I give many accounts throughout the book about my struggle to overcome the nagging doubts of whether or not I had lived previous lives as historical figures. Most people are very comfortable believing they have incarnated before. Over half the population of the earth believes in the transmigration of the soul but few literally connect with a past lifetime.

As a Navy SEAL, combat veteran, SEAL Team Six ,Red Man operator with over twenty-four years of experience and a senior enlisted officer my peers have always held me in high esteem. What was it that got me into this incredibly challenging position among the crème de la crème of Special Warfare operators? I have always had high integrity and unrelentingly pursued excellence in all that I do. I have also made it a primary component of my character to share with others what I felt helped lead me to a high level of excellence. Whatever that may be.

Past life exploration is part of the process that has continued my transformation in this life towards an unconquerable belief that we all have greatness within us. As the senior enlisted of the first phase of Basic Underwater Demolition SEAL BUD/S training the students looked up to me as an ideal SEAL that many of them desired to emulate. First phase of BUD/S contains the notorious Hell Week of training and to make it through this week of virtually no sleep and constant extreme physical activity everyone has to dig deep within their core to find the ability to continue on.

I became very scientific and artistic in apply pressure to mold and shape students. Like a piece of molten steel pulled from the fire of the furnace I hammered away like a skilled artisan shaping metal into a work of art. Every life you have lived is like going into the fire and coming out and being shaped into a finer and more exquisite work of art. A Japanese samurai sword of exceptional quality takes many months of work to make. The samurai sword smith considered his work a sacred art. A typical sword needed to be heated and folded many times before the right quality was achieved. Once the sword was chosen by its master it was considered an extension of his soul. The samurai treated his sword with reverence and awe.

The Japanese believe in reincarnation and like the samurai I had reverence for shaping the future souls of the Naval SEAL community and took great care in my work.

What typically goes through your mind when you initially begin to connect with past lifetimes? I’d long held a belief that I was incarnate in previous lifetimes so the process of finding and connecting with my soul development throughout history was like a fait accompli.

But what is it like for someone that has never tasted the sweet victory of connecting with a previous lifetime? I will let my new friend describe her experience in her own words.

Interestingly, one year ago any kind of past life exploration or reincarnation was nonexistent in my mind…I thought. I was an average AMERICAN woman, living my life, enjoying my children and grandchildren…traveling with my husband AND knowing that change was coming.

We both felt it…felt something, but what?

In my daily perusal of the internet I “happened” across Michael Jaco’s website, read the entire content in one setting, and ordered his book, “The Intuitive Warrior”. When it arrived, my husband grabbed it and read it before I even had a chance to look at the book. Of course, I was able to finally read it, and when I was finished, I immediately emailed Michael, asking him if he was real or just some weirdo with a hidden agenda. How could a Navy SEAL actually be exploring past lives and reincarnation?

As emails began to be shared between the two of us he began to share a little more of his explorations and sent me a list of his past lives. My husband and I read it and then were completely convinced that Michael Jaco was a complete head case…maybe too many vaccinations? We disregarded his book and continued on with our lives as usual.

In the meantime, Mr. Jaco again emailed me asking me for my response to the information he had shared…I told him precisely what I thought. A few weeks passed and this unsteady feeling kept bothering me. I awoke one morning to an “Ah ha” and went into my meditation time thinking something was about to occur….. I literally envisioned being in another place at another time. I shared the info with Michael who confirmed that he actually lived at that place during that time……. All of a sudden, my past lives began to come to me in torrents of information. Not only was I confused but also fearful, I had never experienced anything like this in my life and didn’t want to jump into some sort of insanity…..LOL.

Michael suggested I seek counsel regarding these past lives. As a result, I went to see my REIKI practitioner, Kara Emmy, who confirmed to me that Michael Jaco was legitimate and a very evolved soul. Having been a longtime client of Kara’s, I shared my visions with her and requested her guidance. She helped me clarify what I was seeing and encouraged me to explore all that came to me.

In the meantime, I also sought help from Terry Zinn who is a specialized kinesiologist. She muscled tested me to confirm or refute the lives I felt I had lived. Unbelievably, we had about a 90% accuracy rate between my visions and her muscle testing results. We were both pretty excited and impressed.

It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change. Since I was finally willing to explore more extensively, Michael suggested I also seek help from the well-respected psychic and author, Kevin Ryerson. Mr. Ryerson has channeled many lifetimes for the dancer, actress, and author Shirley MacLaine.

Unbelievably, my past life exploration has mushroomed into many lives, many places, many adventures and with many new friends, Michael and Tracy Tomlinson, being part of our own soul family.

One of my lives of interest is that of THEODORA, the daughter of Empress THEODORA and Emperor Justinian. AHTUN RE, who speaks through Mr. Ryerson told me that I was the daughter of Michael Jaco when Michael was Emperor Justinian and Michael’s wife, Tracy, was Empress THEODORA. My husband was the court physician during that time of 515 CE when we all lived and knew each other.

AHTUN RE explained that the four of us shared a twin soul relationship, which means that our souls were created from the same SOURCE and that we have coexisted throughout time as siblings.

I would be remiss in not mentioning our most beloved twin souls, Tracy and Michael Jaco. They have opened my husband and I up to many wonderful thoughts through many shared conversations and past life experiences. You two are an inspiration and we thank you.

I feel incredibly fortunate to have had the opportunity to seek several different counselors, none of which knew of the information imparted from one another. ALL of the sessions with each practitioner completely validated one another and deepened my past life exploration.

Sonia Martin, my BEST practitioner, summed this all up when she said, “Why wouldn’t there be confirmation among the practitioners when we are all seeking the same truth?” I liked that statement.

We have learned through this marvelous adventure that souls reincarnate over and over again…exploring, learning and enjoying what life has to offer…that different types of soul relationships occur… soul mates, twin souls, soul groups. Levels of twin soul relationships are being explored, new research is being observed and the evolvement of the soul is taking place. It is my sincere desire to help those interested in soul exploration and reincarnation to make the leap into the next dimension of life.

Namaste,

KAT

Kat’s amazing transformation and discovery of previous incarnations is not unique but common with people I have worked with. Kat mentions Soul Mates, which is literally a separated half of you as discussed by Shirley MacLaine in her book the Camino: A Journey of the Spirit. My wife Tracy Jo has been identified as my soul mate. We often but not always come together in time to work together and advance as soul mates. Do you feel you are with your soul mate? I’ve found that a soul mate relationship can be very rewarding and challenging at the same time. We are here to grow as spiritual beings and who would know how to motivate us to our full potential better than an actual piece of ourselves?

Kat and her husband are twin souls. When we are birthed initially as souls we usually arrive in groups of 6 to 12 twin souls, which are like siblings. There are 8 twin souls in our group of which we have found then all. Twin souls often come together singly or in groups to work together and learn in the environment of Earth’s third dimensional reality. Kat was Queen Hatshepsut of Egypt in a lifetime that I talk about in my book. Her husband in this life was Spartan King Leonidas in a previous lifetime which I also talk about in the book. Twin souls can be mates, offspring, siblings, friends or work mates. Our souls depart for the place between lives when we release our mortal clothes or as Henry David Thoreau said, “The soul comes from without into the body, as into a temporary abode, and it goes out of it anew as it passes into other habitations, for the soul is immortal.” We come up with a game plan for our next incarnation in the abode between mortal lives and often meet with our larger soul group for a huddle and game-winning plan before we break for the next life in 3D.

A soul group usually consists of around 20 souls on average. Michael Tomlinson is part of my soul mate and twin soul’s larger soul group in which we interact many times throughout time to also help each other develop. Michael and I have discovered many lifetimes working together not just to help our soul group but to also help the larger community of humanity. Look back in former articles to see several lifetimes of interactions that Michael and I work together and what that interaction is like on a soul group level. Shirley MacLaine is coincidentally part of my larger soul group and has been unwittingly motivating me to excel and develop my own past lives. We’ve had several past lives of interaction as I’ve discovered so far.

Discovering your own past lives is one of the most productive and empowering ways to advance to your highest potential in your lifetime. My book gives possibly one of the most intriguing past lifetime accounts in history. We are in a period of great change. As Kat said in her account: “It seemed that my Iife was on the precipice of change.” Many people fear change. I speak in my book “The Awakening of a Warrior” how fear is the opposite of love, holds us back from reaching our full potential and is in no way a positive. Do you love yourself? Before you can ever truly love anyone or anything else you must first learn to love yourself.

When you discover loving yourself more fully you will naturally gravitate to exploring deeper aspects of yourself. Deep within your core self is your heat, your fire. When you touch that fire you will not be burned you will be transformed into something far greater. You have been eons in the making reach down and find your amazing potential.

I know many of you question what value could arise in the discovery of your own past life incarnations. Personally I have found an amazing amount of gratification and believe that everyone can experience a similar if not even greater level of fulfillment and pleasure. The techniques for accessing your individual past lives are scientific, professional and easy to do.

Many of my own experiences are detailed in my new book The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered. In this article I’ll outline and give examples of what many others and I are experiencing and profiting from the rich treasure of our past lives through simple techniques. What can you gain from past life research?

- I have discovered why I naturally have proclivities and skills that came easily to me. For instance having success becoming a Navy SEAL and excelling as a warrior became clear when I found many lifetimes as Spartan, Roman and Viking warriors to name but a few. What comes easily to you? Would you be fascinated to find you have excelled in your current area of expertise in many lifetimes? What are you drawn to?

- Family members and friends that I have been really close to were found to have incarnated with me through multitudes of lifetimes. Discovering this made clear to me why we were so close and natural with each other. Would you be surprised to learn you have incarnated with your family, close friend or significant other for eons? Would it intrigue to know that you have been part of a soul group that works together helping each other throughout time?

- I have had release from physical, emotional and psychological trauma from past lives. If we dig far enough back into our lifetimes we unearth and often instantly release blocking and debilitating trauma from the past. Do you suffer from unexplainable pain? Do you have inexplicable fears and or psychological issues that you or no one around you understands?

- Discovering past lifetimes made history come alive for me like no lecture or book could ever do. My view of current events in the world is much clearer after having seen the long struggle throughout time to arrive where humanity is at today. Do you wonder at how the governmental, religious and economic systems seem to have evolved the way they have? Would it surprise you if you have been closely involved in many different governments, religions and economic systems other than your current one throughout time?

There are many deeper aspects of past life discovery that are too numerous to relate here. The overall scope of my intent here is to communicate this deeply rewarding possibility that exists within each and every one of us. We can all discover that we have been here on earth before many times. It lies just below the surface of our consciousness waiting for us to discover this hidden treasure. It’s buried so that until and when we are ready the teacher will arrive. Are you ready?

We incarnate to experience, learn, over come challenges and grow from them and ultimately to love on a deeper and ever more exquisite level in every new lifetime. Why wouldn’t we want to keep coming back?

Reincarnation is like experiencing a thrilling ride at your favorite amusement theme park. Do you ride that exhilarating ride just once? Do you ride just one ride or do you cycle through many different ones? Does it take you many trips to experience all that you want to encounter? Of course there are many souls that want to experience these rides so we may not get to all we want to encounter in just one trip. Do you enjoy coming back with different family members, friends, significant other, your close soul group, and have a different experience? Such is life and so are our many lifetimes.

Another joy that I have experienced through sharing my past lifetimes is meeting new people and watching and learning from them as they experience their own past life discoveries. One of the joys of sharing something exciting and life changing is that you learn just as much from others experiences as you do from your own.

One such newfound friend and part of my soul group as I’ve discovered is Michael Tomlinson who I met after he read my first book The Intuitive Warrior. I had been drawn to the work of the famous samurai warrior Musashi Miyamoto since I was a young man studying martial arts long before I had a full understanding of past lifetimes. I read the book authored by Musashi The Book of Five Rings, which is more a philosophical work than a teaching of how to be a warrior. Even Japanese housewives today read this classic work of art and garner inspiration. The book has been translated into English and has long been a hit in America and elsewhere.

I discovered several years ago that I was Miyomoto’s close student and friend Terao Magonojo throughout much of his lifetime where we fought together in many battles and I was also his second at his many famous duels.

Michael and I eventually got into a discussion about past lifetimes and this eventually led to Michael’s own independent discovery of a lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi. I will let Michael describe his life as Miyamoto and how he initially became involved in past life research.

I happened upon Michael Jaco’s book The Intuitive Warrior one day while searching for a friend’s book on Amazon. Michael’s book was offered as recommended reading, and it was the only other book offered to me that day, which was kind of odd. I checked his book out on Amazon and decided to buy it because it looked like interesting reading. While I was reading Michael’s book over the course of several weeks I kept getting these odd notions that I knew Michael and I had heard a lot of what was in the book before.

What I am talking about here is not that I had a formulated idea about what I was reading or prior knowledge of the subject matter, it was like I was hearing the words come right out of my own mind. I know this sounds strange and trust me, this has never happened to me before. It was so disconcerting that I mentioned it to my wife one day. I told her “this book I’m reading now is strange, it’s like I know this author from somewhere, it feels like it parallels my own mind” she looked at me and smiled and I said to her “yeah I know that sounds crazy but I just can’t explain it”.

After reading The Intuitive Warrior I looked up Michael on Facebook and messaged him that I was a long time martial artist, and that I had enjoyed his book. I didn’t mention to him how the book had made me feel while reading it because I didn’t want him to think I was some crazy person contacting him. A few months later a family member of mine posted a photo of me when I was a toddler on Facebook and Michael mentioned that after looking at the photo he had the intuition that we had known each other in a past life. That started a conversation between us on the aspects of reincarnation and how I had gotten a lot of strange impressions while reading his book. I have always believed in reincarnation but had never really talked about it to very many people. At this point Michael gave me a great base of knowledge on how to get started down the past life regression path.

I decided to look up some past life regression hypnotherapists in my area and found a lady named Diane Ross. She has been a licensed hypnotherapist for quite a long time and I got a positive feeling from her when we first met. While in college I majored in Drawing and Printmaking and in a Psychology class I remembered learning about hypnosis, so I had a basic understanding of how it worked. Diane explained to me about the different brain wave states and assured me that hypnotherapy was based in science and not some sideshow act. I mentioned to her that I was interested in past life study but I was just curious about what would happen. She explained that being curious and not having an agenda would probably give me the best results.

During the initial stages of my second past life regression I looked down at my feet and noticed they were covered with silk embroidered foot coverings that I had never seen before. I had a matching pair of baggy styled leg coverings on and around my waist I could see a wide wrapping and two distinct swords. I was walking down a very nice gravel path and I was in Kyoto. I have never been to Japan before so this knowledge came to me as a surprise. I was on my way to have a duel with another Samurai. I was then progressed to the moment of the duel while the two of us were in a position to draw our swords. I could see the Samurai across from me and his intent to attack. As soon as I sensed his intent I drew my sword and cut him down.

Later during the regression I was exiting a house in which there was a meeting about battle strategy and as I stepped out to the porch area I saw Michael Jaco standing with several of our Samurai clan and I could tell he was in charge of them. Michael Jaco followed along as we walked to the battle and he was always on my right hand side. During one of these battles we were engaged with enemy Samurai and Michael was fighting on my right side. The scenes were so vivid that I could see everything from the embroidered patterns and colors on our armor and clothing to the actual movements and cuts we were using with our swords. During this regression Diane ask me what my name was in that life time and I told her Miyamoto Musashi. I also told her that I wrote a book later in my life and that most people think the book is about strategy but I actually hid the true meaning of the writings in the book and very few people understand what my writings are truly about. I will leave this part out for now since it is rather detailed and esoteric.

During the end of the regression Diane ask me several questions about how my life ended and how I felt about that overall lifetime. This regression was awe inspiring and took me totally by surprise. Afterwards I have done some research and found a lot of what I said under hypnosis to match with what I saw. I am condensing this regression information which actually lasted an hour and twenty minutes for this article but suffice to say the information I learned about myself in that lifetime as Miyamoto Musashi is with me every day now.

When Michael Tomlinson began to awaken his past life memories they helped ignite in me many memories of past lives working together. As you begin to have your own memories and past life connections with others you will have similar recollections begin to reveal themselves in their own right time. Your treasure chest has many layers of jewels and as you pull one out your eye will be caught by the glimmer of another even more beautiful than the one you just discovered.

I began connecting the dots with already discovered past lifetimes. I discovered that Michael Tomlinson was the Bodhidharma who was a Buddhist monk who lived during the 5th or 6th century CE. He is traditionally credited as the transmitter of Zen Buddhism to China, and regarded as its first Chinese patriarch. According to Chinese legend, he also began the physical training of the Shaolin monks in Kung Fu Styles. As Gushi Khan in that lifetime I have memories being one of his first disciples and eventually the second patriarch of Chinese Buddhism.

I uncovered that Michael was also Tokugawa Ieyasu (January 31, 1543 – June 1, 1616) who was the founder and first shogun of the Tokugawa shogunate of Japan. When I looked at a statue of Ieyasu during an intuitive hunch it was clear that Michael and the famous samurai were one. They look identical. We often carry similar physical traits from one lifetime to the next.

During this same period I was the Korean admiral Yi Sun-shin April 28, 1545 – December 16, 1598) who was a Korean naval commander, famed for his victories against the Japanese navy. As a Navy SEAL working with Korean SEAL’s in south Korea I had become enthralled at Yi’s Turtle fleet and incredible victories.

Between these two lives we had a major impact on stopping early Japanese imperial aggression. My soul group has been aggressively involved in reversing negative factions throughout history.

In The Awakening of a Warrior: Past Lives of a Navy SEAL Remembered I have a chapter dedicated to giving you ideas on how to get started in discovering your own past lives. I have twenty-one life times in ancient history that I have uncovered and present in the book. These lives have deep insights that can have a major impact on humanity similar to my other book The Awakening of a Warrior.

I am also currently conducting interviews, which I will post on my site for your enjoyment when they become available.

Whether you currently believe in past lives or are just curious I highly recommend that you engage a qualified hypnotherapy regressionist to explore your own treasure trove of past lives anxiously waiting within you to be discovered.

I’ve started a new work of fiction loosely based off of life experiences and people I’ve worked with as a SEAL Team Operator.

Navy SEAL

Spartan 16

Chapter 1

SEAL Chief Jake Wilkins silently raised his gloved fist. The motion meant stop. Instantly, the signal was passed back through the lines of ninety Tier One Assault Force operators. Everything settled into a tense expectancy as SEALs, Rangers and Delta Force operators dropped and immobilized into a crouch. Two barely discernable hisses were heard as if a cobra was exhaling before striking its prey. The shots from the silenced fifty caliber sniper rifles had been accurate. The muffled sounds of two Taliban sentries hitting the ground dead were heard a split second apart.

Jake heard the code word for the assault to begin with a vengeance from the Red Squadron commander. “Tuna! Tuna! Tuna!” came over the helmet coms. His lips lifted away from his clenched teeth as he thought about Mustafa’s family who had been tortured to death by this group of vicious Taliban. Rage tunneled through him. He had worked with a number of Pashtun villages, gotten them medicine, dental care, food and clothing for the long winter. Mustafa’s three children, five, eight and ten, had called him “uncle.” And he had been all of that and more to those three innocent children.

The Taliban had made examples of the children, stripping their flesh from their thin, naked bodies, hoisting them up on ropes to hang dying in the trees near the village as a warning. Those son-of-a-bitches were going to pay for what they did to them. Releasing an explosive breath, Jake controlled his rage and focused it. “Lets get those bastards”, he whispered harshly into the mic to his SEAL Team Six troop behind him. His breath was white vapor, the late March sun just an hour away from rising.

The Afghanistan Hindu Kush lorded over them like jagged old men with a front row seat to the fierce battle that was about to rage. The relatives of Mustafa had wailed and sobbed, women tearing their hair, beating their breasts with their fists as Jake and his team gently and carefully took down each dead child and tenderly wrapped them in clean blankets. There were no dry eyes in his squad. A number of the SEALs were fathers and it was too much for them to take. Jake hadn’t cried at that time, instead, filled with numbing grief.

In the last two days during the hunt for the Taliban group at nine thousand feet, tears had leaked unexpectedly out of his eyes from time to time, freezing on his lashes and cheeks. They’d moved stealthily throughout the night to catch up with them, over ten miles of narrow goat trails, often with treacherous sheer cliffs, to reach their objective. Now they were ready to enter the elusive Taliban’s lair that was nestled deep in a secret cave system their enemy thought was secure. Jake’s legs were trembling, calves cramped from the relentless trek to reach this cave complex before dawn. It’s pay back time.

Jake gave the move signal, his hand slashing forward. The pace picked up faster and faster. The assault force quickly closed the distance toward the dark and foreboding cave entrance barely seen between craggy rocks and snow. His heart pulsed several beats and he consciously willed himself to take deeper breaths. “Slow the pace,” Jake hissed in a whisper into his comms.

His fingers manipulated the switches on his Surefire infrared light systems mounted on top of his helmet and beneath the barrel of his weapon. Their combined lights would illumine the cave but still be invisible to the naked eye. Jake remembered how the caves of Tora Bora had taught the teams that night vision goggles were useless without some sort of ambient light. They now had the power of the stars to see in the darkness of the cave system, no problem.

With his four lensed, wide angle, night vision goggles he could clearly see the group of forward assaulters. Their weapon mounted infrared lasers danced and flitted about like fireflies in the black night.

The men of the Red Man Squadron swiftly penetrated the craggy entrance to the cave. Rebel, the point man of his troop and his best friend, was the first to enter the black maw. The dry, warmer air of the cave rushed by Jake and the familiar but never welcome smell of Taliban body odor and human waste assailed his nostrils and almost made him gag.

They moved ephemerally like transitory ghosts in the night. A downward sloping narrow rock passageway opened abruptly into a vast cavern with a dark, menacing one hundred foot high ceiling. “Break right Troop Two,” Jake whispered into his helmet’s boom mic. Moving in step beside him, was Troop One’s leader, who made the call for his troop to “break left.”

Each troop had seven enlisted men and one senior enlisted troop leader. Four troops made up a squadron. Two junior officers or element leaders were assigned to one of two troops. With a senior officer as troop commander and senior enlisted as overall enlisted commander a squadron usually consisted of thirty-four operators. The lead element of two troops moving down the stone passageway was followed closely by element two. They all silently flooded through the opening like a destructive tsunami devouring the landscape.

Dozens of safeties on silenced M4’s rapidly clicked into a semi-fire mode when the shooters spotted their threat. Fifty Taliban fighters were spread, tightly packed, across the cave floor, sleeping and unaware. Jake allowed his grief and rage for the dead children to fully flow through him. The slaughter was about to begin.

The Taliban and Al-Qaeda fighters had each wrapped themselves in their ever-present winter cloak of brown wool. Lying untouched beside each man could be seen an AK-47. They were going to be completely caught off guard Jake thought with dark satisfaction.

“Switch on thermal,” he whispered. The scope could distinguish the body heat of men covered in wool blankets. The red heat outlines of bodies inside the bundles instantly came alive in their scopes like demons from Dante’s Hell. All four troops were moving sideways heel to heel in a quick, silent shuffle along the wall of the French cathedral-like cave. Weapons were poised to fire.

Jake and his squadron trained in shooting hundreds of rounds everyday at their base in Afghanistan. He and many of the Red Men could fire three headshots in less than a second. Jake had been a star fullback in his high school in Charleston, South Carolina. He often reflected how athletes in colleges and professional teams throughout the world competed against each other. Ecstatic crowds cheered their favorites as leather balls moved back and forth across a small field. The Red Men competed against each other in how fast they could hit several targets the size of a ball in less than one second.

No adoring fans would cheer as they performed their deadly skill now.

Jake’s low snarling order came through the mic. “Commence fire!” Thirty-two assaulters remorselessly spit death from their silenced M-4’s. Frangible rounds penetrated skulls and bodies and then fragmented so that they would cause the most internal damage. The bullets were designed to also not penetrate through the body to cause collateral damage to the team. Several Taliban bolted upright, but were instantly knocked back down in a hail of bullets as if kicked by a mule into the chest. Jake watched dispassionately as the bodies writhed and jerked in death throes.

The acrid smell of spent ammo stung Jake’s nostrils but was soon replaced with the metallic, coppery smell of blood.

“Search teams out!” Jake ordered. He watched as two pairs of designated men from each troop began to quickly move amongst the blood soaked bundles. They surgically delivered the coup de grace headshots to insure the bodies wouldn’t spring up later like some bad horror movie. From the moment of their entrance into the cave, the gory work was done in little more than a few minutes. The glow from the corpses began to fade in the thermal scopes. Death covered the floor of the cave with its black cloak. Silence hung heavy.

The children’s screams had carried out across the village and no one there could stop the Taliban from torturing them. Parents and relatives shrieked and screamed, begging for the innocent children’s lives. Villagers could only turn away, sobbing, eyes shut, hands over their ears, helpless. Even their religious leader, a man in his sixties with a long white beard, had run out to the Taliban leader, pleading, begging them not to harm the crying, frightened children. The Taliban leader had calmly turned, pulled out the Glock handgun he had gotten off an American soldier he had killed months earlier, and shot the old man in the head.

With eyes transfixed on the lifeless forms, Jake whispered into his mic “Initial chamber clear, Red Leader.” Sweat stung his eyes and he blinked several times to clear them. He felt a burning satisfaction spread throughout his chest as he surveyed the carnage.

Jake was in charge of the assault force while Ed and the Squadron Senior Chief Bud Parker, were positioned outside at the entrance to the cave.

“Initiate tunnel rats,” Commander Summers ordered into his mic. The Delta/Combat Applications Group (CAG) and Rangers moved like hungry lions into the tunnel.

A week earlier, the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) surveillance drone had detected the large movement of forces across the Pakistani border. Although several weeks before the normal spring offensive, this was not unexpected. Jake knew the weather had been unseasonably warm for this time of year. CIA Case Officers working their human intelligence (Humint) sources had determined at that date none other than the number two in Al-Qaedaled this group. To have the Egyptian physician Al Zawahiri leading a joint Al-Qaedaand Taliban force, was stunning and unexpected.

Jake leaned over to his best friend and shooting partner, Jordan, who was also from Charleston, South Carolina. “That felt good,” he said with a relieved sigh.

Jordan growled, “Nothing like a little pay back for Mustafa’s kids.”

Jake saw the vengefulness shining in Rebel’s eyes. Their troop had come into the village a day after the massacre. What met their eyes stunned them. They were all experienced in the horrors of war, but this scene had not prepared them.

All of the parent’s lifeless forms lay sprawled with a single bullet in each of their heads. They were silent witnesses below the bodies of their beloved children swaying above them in the cold morning air. Rebel had helped him take down the youngest child and had cried openly, unashamed as they wrapped the boy in a brown wool blanket. Now, Rebel looked triumphant, a grisly smile across his mouth. Pay Back.

Jake motioned to the CAG operators entering the cathedral cave to position close to their pre-designated tunnels on the left. Like the spokes of a bicycle wheel, seven tunnels radiated out from the main chamber. Jake’s troop would hold security on the larger center chamber until several of the other smaller tunnels were cleared. The Red Men would divide a tunnel each between the remaining three troops and simultaneously take the three tunnels on the right while CAG took the three left.

Amazingly they still had surprise on their side because the M-4’s silencers had muzzled the sounds of shots. Special mesh bags attached to the side of the weapons had caught the extracted shell casings so that all sound was absorbed entirely within the cavern itself. Not a shell had dropped to the floor to awaken the sleeping enemy.

Jake held his thumb up from a center position of his team. The cave looked like a cathedral without stained glass windows. “Thumb’s up troop leaders when you are ready,” he whispered. He then glanced swiftly around and saw six of them raise thumbs. Satisfaction flowed through him as he called out “Execute, Execute, Execute!”

Trains of heavily armed warriors packed one behind the other, instantly penetrated the six tunnels, dominating them. Multiple rooms branched off each tunnel and were laden with more insurgents. Jake hoped the force could maintain surprise and not be compromised to the forces located on the lower levels of this massive cave system. The Red Men and CAG forces silently and methodically began eliminating more sleeping fighters in each room as they came upon them.

The CIA had secretly improved the entire cave complex during the time of the Russian occupation of Afghanistan. Jake was working with a CIA Analyst at J-bad, Jalalabad, that had remembered mention of its location during her investigation of historical information related to the area. They’d gotten the blueprints sent the next day from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia. And now, that map was branded into his brain and he’d memorized all of it. Nostrils flaring, Jake took in the sour smell of himself and the men sweating around him, the cave was warmer than the outside air.

The Rangers were doing the macabre task of taking IR, infrared, photographs of the faces of the dead and stacking them in the center of the chamber. An explosion rumbled from chamber one on the right. Jake and his shooting partner, Jordan, glanced at each other with concerned looks. Everyone froze and looked expectantly towards tunnel one.

“Tunnel one, situation report?” Jake demanded in a strained tone. There was a tense pause, and then came the reply. “All okay, Red Two,” Jay said. With his best southern drawl he added, “An attempt to throw a hand grenade by one of the insurgents backfired.”

Jake could almost see Red One’s silly assed smirk while he embellished the account. Jake grinned darkly and muffled a chuckle. Jay sounded like he was on vacation with him, sitting out on the front porch of his mother’s southern mansion bed and breakfast in Charleston. He could picture Jay rocking idly in his rocking chair, not a care in the world looking out over the harbor towards Fort Sumter. Jay would have sweet tea in his hand. Such was the ability of highly trained professionals to present a low-key atmosphere in such a highly charged, unpredictable situation. And black humor was part and parcel of everything they did. His grin widened and the tension sloughed off his shoulders.

Jake knew that the information was being relayed by the command element on the surface to the expectant CIA headquarters where they would be intently monitoring their progress. The CIA’s interest and involvement in the mission had been highly pronounced. Jake blinked the burning sweat out of his eyes.

Three Star Navy SEAL Admiral Joseph McCafferty, Commander of Special Operations Command in Tampa, Florida, was also monitoring the operation. Fighting Joe McCafferty had given the approval for the mission to begin with. His decision to mount it, had been viewed as a highly unorthodox and dangerous undertaking, but Jake knew his leader never took risks. McCafferty knew more about this type of tactical pursuit when it came to caves than anyone else. The SEAL Admiral had approved Jake’s first fighting course for the Navy SEAL Teams early in his career. Jake liked his style and he liked the man who had always shadowed his career in the best of ways.

Jake tensed as several AK-47 rounds were heard echoing hollowly in tunnel six where the CAG operators were clearing. Instantly, the excited voice of the CAG leader came across, “We have one minor wounded in tunnel six coming out.”

“Roger, send him out,” Jake replied, no longer in a whisper. The words came out tight. Worried. “Wounded coming out of six” Jake called out behind him.

Two Air force Special Forces Pararescue Jumper operators had quickly positioned themselves to receive the wounded CAG operator. Jake knew these 18 Delta medical qualified men were the most highly trained medical people in the world when it came to dealing with combat injuries. That CAG operator would be in the best of hands.

“Roger. Come out,” Jake ordered. From his position within the cave, he passed the information to Bud.

Red Men started streaming out of Tunnel Two, hustling soundlessly, M-4 barrels pointed up toward the ceiling, and began to position themselves in front of the main tunnel. They needed three troops at a minimum to begin penetration of the next deadly level. No one knew what lay in wait for them in the dark recesses below. A CAG troop joined them in a rush as if still unsatisfied from their initial feast, and hungry for more.

“We are in position and ready to assault level two, Red Leader” Jake said, suppressing his excitement.

“Roger Red Two” came a raspy, gruff reply from Bud. “I will assume operational control of level one.”

Bud hastily came down toward the tunnel where they waited and gave him the thumb’s up to proceed. Ed Summers remained on the surface. With him would be an Air Force Combat Controller that would be relaying communications with the controllers of two MQ-9 Reaper drones providing surveillance and each carrying fourteen Hellfire missiles. Jake thought momentarily of the Rangers that were providing security. They came from a long lineage that traced back to his home state of South Carolina. Revolutionary commander Francis Marion, the “Swamp Fox”, developed irregular methods of warfare against the British army and was the father of modern guerrilla warfare. And now he was seeing the twenty-first century version of what Marion had created, and they were warriors in their own right.

Jake was eager to get back into the fight and got the thumb’s up from the other two troop leaders. He turned and looked towards the metal grate stairs leading to level two. Below them lay a large operations room that was the heart of the whole complex. Several more tunnels led off to more barracks rooms like the one they were on. The last troops were almost finished and were passing their Tango KIA information to the officer in charge of gathering and reporting the numbers to Summers.

Jake gave Jordan a firm squeeze on the shoulder signifying all was ready. Jordan had been holding security on the stairwell to the lower level, his weapon at the ready. He was like a coiled panther ready to spring on its prey and moved out rapidly as point man once more after he received the silent hand signal to initiate.

Jordan began moving with rifle pointing towards the stairs. Jake and the rest of the force followed closely on his heals like a band of Vikings descending fearlessly into the dark underworld. Their battleaxes magically transformed into tricked out M-4’s.

Ting, ting, ting!

Automatic weapon shots rang out from below and impacted on the steel railing the moment they reached the stairs.

“Give ‘em the cold steel boys”, Jake shouted.

Jordan, Jake and several Troop Two operators opened up into the abyss with their weapons on full auto, sighting the figures firing from below. Several forms fell like scythed wheat to the dirt floor. Several tangos limped or ran out of the range of their shots.

“Move!” Jake snapped.

They ran down the stairs with their weapons at the ready. Their boots pounded out heavy footfalls on the rusting steel grating of the staircase that dropped into the long ago drilled out hole and into the cavern below. They shot at anything that moved. Running gun battles raged through the passages of level two as the rest of the available force avalanched into the next cavern.

Jake and Jordan aggressively entered a small chamber together. Jake turned right along the wall of the rock-hewn room when suddenly, a heavy wooden bunk bed was flung against him, trapping his slung M-4 and right arm against the wall. Two Taliban leaped out from behind their makeshift trap towards him. His left hand shot down to his left hip and he unsheathed a 6-inch double-edged knife blade. The blade sank into the nearest attackers neck and severed major veins, arteries and nerves leading to and from the brain. The first attacker collapsed, his scream a gurgle. Hot blood shot out in spurts from the entrance wound, soaking through Jake’s gloved hand and arm.

Jerking the razor sharp blade upward. Jake grunted, twisted slightly and back hand parried a blade thrust from the second attacker who tried to use his own drawn knife on him. A split second later, he thrust his blade into the second attacker’s neck. The second tango’s knife arm dropped useless after having his brachial plexus nerves in the neck severed. With a grunt, he dropped unconscious, due to massive blood loss to his brain. Jake knew death would occur for both men in less than a minute as the heart stopped due to the rapid loss of blood volume through the wounds.

Jordan had entered a split second after Jake to clear the left wall. Two tangos pushed another heavy bed toward him, completely pinning him to the wall. Out of the corner of his eye Jake saw two more figures running towards Jordan as they kept his friend imprisoned. With a hiss, Jake threw the knife spinning through the air. The blade struck Jordan’s closest assailant. A cracking sound snapped through the air as the blade shattered the rear of the man’s skull. The blade severed his brain stem and he dropped to the floor, as if turning off a light switch.

A moment after the blade left his hand, Jake hit the quick release on his chest mounted M-4 sling. Breath exploded out of him as he pushed the bed off him, releasing him so he could protect his friend. He ignored the wet, sticky blood oozing down across his H-gear and chest. Wiping the hot blood from his mouth, he spat to the left and dug in his toes into the fine dirt of the cave. Hurtling toward his shooting partner and rapidly closing the distance toward a giant tango.

He instantly drew the SOCOM .45 caliber Desert Eagle handgun in his drop holster around his right leg. As the pistol rocketed free of the holster, Jake instantly rotated it at the hip and began firing into the second attacker. The first rounds tore into the center mass of the tango at chest level, smashing into his heart from the side. As Jake continued firing repeatedly, bringing his weapon up to eye level, he squeezed off a well-aimed shot into the brain’s kill switch of his fourth tango. The massive Taliban male toppled over like a giant sequoia tree from the last chop of a woodsman’s axe.

Jake walked over and pushed on the bed, freeing Jordan, who was cursing eloquently and still squirming to gain freedom.

Jordan turned and surveyed the carnage in the room, his mouth ajar in disbelief. He was starting to form words to speak.

“I’ll tell you later,” Jake rasped, breathing hard as his friend looked back and forth at him and the four dead men splayed out on the cave floor. “Come on quit lollygagging we’ve still got work to do,” Jake urged, feeling the high of adrenaline streaking through him.

Just then, a thunderous noise cracked the air louder than the mayhem still raging outside in the main chamber. The earth rumbled and quaked as if angry at being disturbed from her slumber. Jake and Jordan shot a wide-eyed look at each other and then rushed out of the chamber, rocks falling all around them from the ceiling.

Anger flowed through Jake. Eyes narrowed, he connected with each of the combat proven operators left in the room during the operational brief. A hard lump grew in his throat as he thought about the children.

“This Taliban unit is full of ruthless bastards. They aren’t like other Taliban units we’ve come up against. They’re barbaric against local, defenseless civilians.” His voice turned steely. “My troop witnessed what these bastards are capable of after seeing three young children they’d skinned alive a few days ago at Mustafa’s village. They wanted to make the kids examples so that the villagers would not ever consort with Americans again.”

He saw everyone’s lips thin, their jaws compress with anger. The look in their eyes told Jake that they would wage war as if they were King Leonidas’s Spartan Warriors resurrected. Jake smiled inwardly as everyone stood and began to gather their weapons and gear for the next step in the cave operation.

Dust was still falling from the ceiling of the third and last level of the cave as Jake’s troop led down the decrepit, worn metal stairs. Several of the men stifled coughs from the fine dust that rose into the air from the battle. Their black Adidas GSG9 assault boots made metallic echoes into the darkness as they descended that grate. Surprisingly no gunfire rang out. After the noise from the battle above, it seemed like they were entering a crypt, it was so quiet. The hair on the back of Jake’s neck rose. His intuition told him something was terribly wrong.

About Michael

Michael Jaco served as a Navy SEAL for twenty-four years before becoming an independent security contractor. During his service he achieved what many others previously thought to be impossible or unattainable. He retired in December 2002 as a Navy "Chief" and started his own training organization which educates participants in tactical awareness skills. Born in Columbia, South Carolina, he now lives in Elgin with his wife and children.